


The Most Sincere Kind of Lie

by Seeking7



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst times for every single boy! Wow! Get your angst 50 percent off by calling 1-800-ANGST today!, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Eventual Happy Ending, Graphic Depictions of Illness, He's doing his best to make things better but honestly he isn't doing a great job, Heavy Angst, Hyrule isn't as innocent as he seems, Hyrule-centric subplot, Improper Use of Exceptionally Powerful Magical Artifacts, Legend (Linked Universe)-centric, Legend is the anti-hero, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Major Character Injury, No beta we die like Vento Aureo protagonists, People wanted me to bring that last tag back so there it is folks, Psychological Horror, This story is intense; please proceed with caution, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, it's not permanent but it's there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 115,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24549589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeking7/pseuds/Seeking7
Summary: “The concept is simple, however. Two artifacts that complement each other in origin, magic type, and usage may, when combined, temporarily produce something greater than the sum of their parts. It’s a “hit or miss” phenomenon, as Link likes to call things. Artifacts are rarely built to be companionable, and when they are, it is often a matter of chance. But it is fun to think about, is it not? For example, a magical lens and, say, perhaps a portal, if companionable, may create a portal to a dimension between dimensions -- to a place that is both hypothetical and real at the same time. A lucid, living vision of the most sincere kind of lies.”+ + + +Legend had always been far more curious, intelligent, and mature than any of his reincarnations give him credit for. But when he finds that his Magic Mirror and Time's Lens of Truth fuse into an artifact that reveals each hero's most precious, sincere lies -- their perception of themselves -- one of Legend's defining characteristics overpowers the others.AKA: The fic where Legend can't keep his nose out of everybody's business and ends up regretting it more than anything in the world.AKA: What not to do, ft. Legend
Relationships: Four & Hyrule & Legend & Sky & Time & Twilight & Warriors & Wild & Wind (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe)
Comments: 662
Kudos: 703





	1. The Lens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Legend makes a bad choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Happy to have you here! This is the first LU fic that I've ever posted, and I can't say how eager I am to share it with you all. It started out as an ELW on the LU discord and morphed into something I couldn't have imagined. 
> 
> For those of you who are new to my writing, I do this thing called the "RecommendedVibe" for every chapter of every fic I post. Essentially, it's a video game track or orchestral piece I find to fit the tone of the chapter very well, and listening along to it adds an extra layer of ambience to the writing. Or, at least, I hope it does. The RecommendedVibe of this chapter is Stardew Valley - Ost - Winter (The Wind Can Be Still) (Extended) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIecCmSEibE&ab_channel=Jorge), which I think captures the general atmosphere really really well. 
> 
> Anyway, to the story!

Hyrule's Hyrule did not feel like a Hyrule. 

A calm, somber, empty wind threaded its way through the sky and forest and swamps, stirring up the stagnant dust lying on abandoned pathways and tugging curiously at the Links' clothing. The road they walked along was hard and flat, unfamiliar with the shifting anxiousness of wandering travelers and unwilling to leave any memory of their footprints behind. Streams mumbled and grumbled to the south, and the dark, seductive lullaby of the forest wafted in from the north. Hauntingly beautiful and terribly desolate was the only way to describe this place. Not even three hours of walking had yielded sight of a single other traveler aside from themselves. 

Hyrule wasn't bothered by this, however. In fact, the traveler had an extra skip in his step and sparkle in his smile, excitedly weaving through the crowd of his incarnations and pointing out distant shadows of distant places with infectious enthusiasm. Infectious enthusiasm was the only proper term for it; Hyrule's amicable and eager attitude had contaminated everyone in the group. Sky hummed a lullaby as they walked along, bopping his head slowly as Wind thumped out the time signature on his chest. Four, Wild and Wars were all huddled around the traveler, trying to guess the names and places of things ahead of them while Hyrule laughed and occasionally applauded their efforts. Even Time and Twilight stared at the darkening sky and pointed out the timid pinpricks of light above, grinning like love-struck fools when Hyrule named each constellation and detailed the lore behind them. 

On the other hand, Legend was very much bothered by their current situation. Even after hours of walking, he had no idea where Hyrule was taking them. He had no idea where, or even if, they were going to sleep tonight. Were they going to have dinner? Discuss a battle strategy or cover story for their ragtag group before they eventually ended up in some Nayru-forsaken town? Legend glared at the armor on Time's back. Of all people, Old Man should have had the presence of mind to lay out some semblance of a plan. But instead, he had an arm draped around Hyrule's shoulder and another on Twilight's, looking up at the stars as if they were the answer to all his most profound questions and desires. A smart bunch his incarnations were, Legend thought. They might as well run off the path at full speed and wait for wild monsters to tear them apart if everyone was going to be this idyllic and dopey. Yeah. Idiots. That's all they were. Legend brooded and nurtured his dissatisfaction with paternal meticulousness, almost enjoying the feeling of disgust blooming between his ribs. He thought of how much his feet hurt and how heavy his eyelids felt. What he would give for a good meal and a warm blanket and twenty seconds of reprieve from the noise and racket around him. His eyebrows slipped low over his face, his mouth twisted into its typical grimace, his movements slowed as he began to lag behind the rest of the group. 

Goddesses above, he was so, so, _so_ tired. 

The silvery, boisterous sound of Sky's laughter shattered the silence Legend had grown extremely fond of over the last few minutes. The disgruntled hero stared up from his feet and stifled a groan as he processed the chaos in front of him. Wind was carrying Sky on his shoulders, swaying back and forth as the former's power bracelet twinkled crazily under the moonlight, and a piggyback race had been declared. Four had hoisted himself on Warriors' back without a second thought, and the two were off, sprinting down a path they weren't familiar with, and towards a horizon they'd never met. A _brilliant_ thing to do in a foreign Hyrule, Legend thought bitterly. At least Time, Twilight, Wild, and Hyrule had some semblance of dignity about them. Oh, scratch that, the insane cook had stripped down to what he called his Sheikah Speedos (whatever on Farore's good green earth _that_ meant) and was now sitting atop Twilight's shoulders. Legend hoped for a split second that Twilight would be level-minded enough to dissuade his protégé from such a reckless pastime. The aforementioned hope melted in the air when the pair shrieked a stream of sacrilegious boasts and sprinted after Wind and Warriors' retreating forms. Hyrule, who was still leading the whole group -- even though they were in his Hyrule, Legend had a sneaking feeling that this was a bad idea -- tossed his shield underneath his feet and quite literally sledded down the path. Legend sighed dramatically. Apparently, Wild's wasteful hobby had tainted even him. 

Idiots, the lot of them. 

Humid fog skittered over from a nearby river and settled onto Legend's lashes and cheeks. He blinked slowly and yawned again. The arsenal on his back pulled him downwards, and Legend made no motion to resist, relishing the feeling of slack muscles and half-closed eyes and hair flopping in front of his face. He didn't notice how far forward he was slumped until his hands dragged across the floor and scratched the rough skin of his knuckles. Legend glared furiously at the dust beneath him, as if to reprimand its audacity. The half-asleep hero proceeded to slog forward with even less intention than before. 

Maybe if he fell asleep in the middle of the path, they would all stop their shenanigans and put their heads back on their shoulders. 

"Hey, Legend! Pick it up, yeah? You're moving about as fast as Wind's gramma on a summer afternoon!" 

That stupid cook couldn't even let him sleep, huh? 

Legend didn't have a comeback, so he just sneered at Wild's silhouette as Wind did the job for him. Sailor boy had quite the vocabulary -- not exactly vulgar but certainly brazen enough to make the aforementioned 'Gramma' blush had she been here. The lazy smile was still plastered over Legend's face when Time broke away from the group and sidled up next to him. 

"What do you make of all this?" Time questioned. 

"Nothing much. It's all pretty stupid, to be honest." The veteran hero didn't look up from the floor, addressing his sleepy words to the dust underneath him. 

Time gave Legend a sidelong look. The sound of laughter and smell of sea salt carried on the wind and grazed the tips of Legend's ears. The Old Man's gaze didn't falter, somehow becoming more childish and bright as he tilted his head genially to the side and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Legend took one look at the dopey look on Time's face and rolled his eyes. 

"Not a chance, Old Man. I might hurt your back." 

"My back? Oh no, you misunderstand. I'm more interested in receiving a piggyback ride than giving one." 

Legend took an involuntary step back and stared up at Time with incredulity splashed all over his face. 

"...?!" 

"Ah. You're a poor sport, I see." 

"... you're not going to manipulate me into something as humiliating as that." 

"Oh well. Worth a shot. But what about Hyrule?" 

"??" 

"Everyone is getting rides except him. I have a feeling he would appreciate it very much if you would swallow your pride for his sake. Why not help him win that race?" 

"Yeah," Legend grunted, "and I would appreciate it if you got off my case and let me be." 

They walked on in silence. The Old Man's armor chinked in time with the sea shanty Wind was belting out at the top of his lungs. A few of the other Links joined in, even though they didn't know the words, their voices exploding into an ungodly crescendo as Wind tossed his hands up into the sky. Legend remained silent. He kicked the small pebbles in front of his feet and glowered at the shifting shadows lurking around the path's corners. There was no need to worry -- Hyrule had made it clear that as long as one stuck on the road, there was no chance of being attacked by any monsters -- but Legend's sleep-deprived brain sparkled with anxiety regardless. Snorts and giggles and quips and retorts echoed in the cold air; Time smiled at them, Legend glared. He just wanted to get to a town, eat something, nap, and wake up when Hylia's little shtick was all over. 

"Time!" Wild shouted, snapping Legend out of his reverie, "can you hold these for us? Twi and I have a race to win, and alla these thingamajiggers aren't doing much to help us out." Twilight stumbled over to them, trying to balance the hyperactive wild child spazzing out on his shoulders, and started to say something before Wild promptly dumped an assortment of swords, shields, and shirts into the Old Man's outstretched arms. Twilight stared apologetically up at Time, opening his mouth to speak before Wild tugged his hair demanded they rejoin the fray. Legend had to hold a hand in front of his face to avoid breathing in the dust Twilight kicked up. Time stared on fondly, slinging the swords over his shoulders and scrutinizing the abandoned things around him as the two crazies scampered off. He sat on his knees with a grunt and started sifting through his bag, apparently looking for a sliver of space to put the random shields and clothes he'd been handed. A few random weapons and supplies had to come out before anything else could go in, and Legend scrutinized them with the jaded eye of a seasoned mage. Time pulled out a hookshot (typical), bow (even more so), three separate quivers of ice, fire, and light arrows (untouched for years, if the fine coating of dust around them meant anything), and a strange magnifying glass with a magenta frame and indigo lens. Well, well, well. What could that be? A familiar cold fire tickled the back of his throat -- the same one that prompted him to begin his first journey and propelled him through the rest. It only grew stronger when Legend noticed how the lens bent and scattered the moonbeams falling around it; it was almost as if the artifact was trying to avoid the light. His eyebrows flickered up, and a smirk pinched the corners of his lips. Legend tossed a quick glance first at Time, who was still slowly shuffling around the materials in his bag, and another one at the rest of the Links, who were still racing and tripping and shouting like a gang of toddlers. In one fluid movement, Legend swiped the lens and held it up in front of his grinning face. 

The lens was heavy, not just because of the metal handle, but because of the ocean of magic seething and roiling within. Dark magic, without a doubt; the thick, somber, molasses-like heartbeat of the enchantment couldn't be chalked up to anything else. But said dark magic had obviously been tampered with in some way; there was none of the electric, fiery malevolence ingrained in most cursed artifacts. Perhaps it had been enchanted by a mage with a pure heart and proficiency in the dark arts? Legend's eyebrows pressed together. His fingertips itched to pull out his Magic Mirror and compare the two. 

It took Legend a few seconds to register that Time's singular eye was boring into him. Legend startled and took a few preemptive steps back, just in case the Old Man got it in his head to make a lunge for the strange lens. The veteran hero smiled at his companion, balancing the artifact on the fat part of his palm.

"Fascinating. Where'd you get this, Old Man? Never thought you were a connoisseur of corrupted magical artifacts." 

Time shrugged his shoulders and stood up, slinging his bag and assortment of swords around his neck. Legend tried very hard not to become uncomfortable under his unflinching, unreadable stare. 

"I don't suggest you play with it," Time finally said. 

Legend grinned even wider and pressed the strange artifact to his chest. "You don't say?" He flicked the crimson barbs adorning the top of the lens and tapped the handle with a fingernail. "I can feel the Dark Magic pouring through this lens -- if it even _is_ a lens and not a portal of sorts." Holding it up to the moon, Legend's face contorted in curiosity as the lens snuffed out the light around it. "The weird thing is that there's no malevolence behind the magic. Must have been cast by a powerful mage with no intent to harm." 

"Perhaps it was." Despite his words, Time's deadpan words hung thickly in the air and betrayed his complete disinterest in pursuing the conversation further. He held out his hand in front of him, an invitation for Legend to return the lens so the both could continue on their way. 

Legend slapped the hand away.

"I don't think so," the veteran teased. "Wanna tell me why you don't want me holding onto this thing? Hiding something, Gramps?" 

"Aren't we all?" 

"Oh please, spare me your existential-crisis inducing lectures. What do these engravings on the side mean?" Legend squinted at the fine letters etched into the rim. "Hmm...Lens of Truth. Is that what it's called? How odd. Hey, what do you say will happen if I look through it?" 

"The same thing that happened to my eye." 

Legend's fiery curiosity dimmed and his sense of self-preservation flared. The veteran cradled the lens in his palm and widened his eyes, searching Time's face for any hint of duplicity. 

"Really?" Legend whispered. 

"Nope." Time replied. The skin around his eyes crinkled. Legend groaned loudly. He should have seen this one coming.

"Ugh. You really had me going for a second there." 

"Hmm. Now give it back."

"C'mon," Legend urged, "don't be such a grump. Can't I just hold onto it for a little bit? You know how careful I am with artifacts of all kids, magical or not. Now that I think about it, I'm probably the best person to keep it with. Not like it's doing anything in that bag of yours."

The silence was heavy and disappointing. Legend was about to appeal to his character and reliability once more before noticing the childish glint in Time's eyes. 

Oh no.

"Well, maybe if…" Time began. 

"I'm not giving you a piggyback ride." 

Time's baritone chuckles muffled the sounds of dust crunching beneath their feet. "I was only going to ask you if you would be able to carry all these things for me." 

Legend blinked quickly, then sheepishly nodded his head. This was a pretty good deal, actually. He slung Time's bag and the array of swords Wild had dumped off around his shoulders, wincing as they dug into his skin. A sharp prick of jealousy pierced his heart as he watched Time sprint ahead and swing Hyrule onto his shoulders. He shook his head, trying to ignore the sound of Hyrule's soft, shy laughter, and busied himself with the lens in his hands. 

What a fascinating thing it was. "The Lens of Truth," huh? Much more enigmatic of a name than "Magic Mirror." He idly bounced the lens in his hand as he thought. Why was it filled with dark magic but free of actual darkness? What kind of truth did it claim to reveal? Why did Time have such a strange artifact sitting at the bottom of his inventory? 

His curiosity burned even brighter, and Legend found himself almost skipping down the path.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Saria Town smelled like salt, dirt, and the sweat of a community living on the fringes of the world. At Hyrule's insistence, the Links slid off each other's shoulders and sauntered over to Legend to grab their swords, shields, and -- in Wild's case -- clothes. The veteran smiled half-heartedly as the weight on his back was lifted in bits and pieces, eyes and mind still trained on the Lens of Truth. It had been half an hour since the strange artifact had first been handed to him, and he was still no closer to finding any explanation for its weird magical aura. 

"Okay, everyone, just some things before we head in." Hyrule's faint voice carried clearly through the crisp nighttime air. "The only building in this town big enough for all of us to stay at belongs to Saria Town's Wise Man. You guys need to be really nice and polite to him, or we won't have any place to sleep tonight." 

"Are you saying we aren't always nice and polite?" Sky questioned. Laughter rippled through the assemblage of heroes as Hyrule awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. 

"Well, I'm just saying that some of us struggle, maybe just a little, with that last one?" 

Everybody's eyes fell on Legend. 

"What?" The veteran said.

Hyrule turned bright red and sputtered out an apology, trying to explain that he hadn't meant to single out anybody with that last statement and he was just trying to make sure everybody knew what the townspeople would expect and that he was so sorry gosh just so-- 

Legend held out a hand in front of him and bounced the Lens of Truth between the fingers of the other. "I'm not mad," he finally said, walking past Hyrule towards the rickety wooden bridge that led to the small town. "I'll be going now. If anyone feels like joining me, be my guest." 

Saria Town was somehow even quieter up close. A smattering of squat, grey buildings pressed their stomachs to the floor, tender blades of grass carpeting the ground beneath them. Soft light poured out of open windows and spilled on the ground. The sleepy villagers perked up at the sight of Hyrule and widened their eyes at the sight of his entourage, waving shyly and grinning when the whole group waved back.

Hyrule stopped in front of the biggest building in the town, hesitating for a split second before knocking. The Links clustered behind him. A woman dressed in purple answered the door, light spilling out from the crack in the door and glinting off the polished wooden porch. Her eyes widened when she recognized the figure at her doorstep. 

"Hello, Link! Oh, you look so tired! Do you need a place to stay, darling?" 

"Yes, ma'am," Hyrule said, "and so does my family." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've read all the way to the end! Amazing. Thank you so much! For those of you who are interested, I've already completed Chapters 2 and 3 and just need to brush them up before I'm ready to post them. I'm debating on whether to update this fic once or twice weekly, as I've got another multi-chapter fic on my hands, but be assured that it won't be long before you see those chapters. 
> 
> I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this story. It means the world to me. Please don't feel afraid to leave a comment down below with any criticism, thoughts or general questions you have. The feeling I get when I see a notification in my inbox is beyond indescribable, and I read and respond to everything that's sent to me, so please don't feel shy. :D


	2. The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typically this is the part where I put some generalized greetings, and I'm still going to do that, but I wanted to take a minute to thank you guys for the outpouring of support I've received from you all. I posted Chapter 1 right before I went to bed and nearly fainted when I woke up and saw the amount of kudos and comments the story received. To each of you who left a kudos: thank you so, so much. It means a lot to me. And to each of you who left a comment: you all are amazing. It's hard for me to say just how much a little sentence or comment at the end means. ヽ(o♡o)/
> 
> Okay and now to the normal stuff. First of all, I hope you guys are all staying safe during this crazy time. Please take care of yourselves! Second, the RecommendedVibe (or recommended background track) for this chapter is Deltarune's "The Circus" (Here is the YouTube link to an extended version of it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-lrnMGlNfg&t=17s). I'm not going to tell you why I chose this track, but the instant you play it I think everything will start to come together. It says some things I can't express just through writing.

The word fell off Hyrule's tongue so easily Legend flinched. He gripped the handle of the Lens of Truth a little tighter than before for a reason beyond his capacity to explain. 

“Family?” The women questioned, lips parting when she saw the group of blondes standing behind Hyrule. “Oh goddesses above, come on in, the lot of you! I have soup on the stove and just finished furnishing the guest room. You all couldn’t have come in at a better time!” 

“...furnishing? What’s she talking about, ‘Rule?” Wind whispered as the Links filed inside. 

“Oh yeah,” the brunet began, ushering his reincarnations into the living room, “people in my Hyrule don’t usually have beds or, uh, furniture in general. I think it’s because there aren’t that many lumberjacks willing to work in the nearby woods. The forests here aren’t too friendly, y’see.” 

“Weird.” Wind looked at Hyrule, a serious look etched onto his soft features. “You’re kind of weird, ‘Rule.” 

“Thanks! I think you’re weird too,” Hyrule chirped. 

Legend rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure Hyrule didn’t know what the word ‘weird’ ment. At the woman’s insistent urging the Links seated themselves at the dinner table, muttering to each other quietly as they did. Legend was the last one inside. He closed the door behind him and placed his sword and shield in the room’s corner with utmost care, electing to keep the lens with him before sitting down next to the traveler. Maybe over dinner he could come up with something -- food always had a way of waking him up. He was startled from his thoughts when Hyrule shyly tapped his shoulder. 

“Take one, pass it down,” Hyrule said before handing Legend a stack of wooden bowls. “Oh, uh, do you want me to take that from you?” he questioned, pointing to the lens in Legend’s hand, “I can put it with your stuff, if you would like.” 

Legend passed the bowls down as instructed, shaking his head at Hyrule’s offer and waving the boy away with his free hand. This Lens of Truth...there was a strange familiarity about it he just couldn’t place. He held it up to his face, oblivious to Time’s hardened stare or Hyrule’s shifting gaze, and tapped the rim gently against the table. Nothing happened. Was there some sort of spell he was supposed to use? He could almost taste the deja-vu on his lips, and its fickle and vague flavor was infuriating. Engrossed in his thoughts, Legend took no heed of the soup ladled into his bowl or the noisy, friendly conversation sparkling around the table. 

“.... and after that we….” 

“....wow, Link, is that true? It must have been so terrifying...” 

“....Ma’am, he’s a real fighter! Wind, tell her about the time he....” 

“Sky! If you want more soup just ask, don’t take mine!” 

“...jeepers, sorry. I thought you weren’t going to eat it…” 

Moonlight spilled in through the windows, glinting off the polished floor and the leather of Legend’s boots. The smell of hot, creamy soup hung heavy in the air, lingering still as the heroes worked through their dinner and the ungodly amount of poundcake offered to them. 

A raspy, unfamiliar voice broke through the comfortable chatter. 

“Oho, Link! We’re happy to see you again, young hero!” 

Even though everyone knew who ‘Link’ was in this situation, no one could stifle the instinct to turn around at the sound of their name. Nine pairs of eyes landed on the grizzled old man standing in the doorway, who was draped in an orange robe and sported an impressive floor-length beard. The warm fire of good humor, seemingly untampered by old age, glinted brightly at the back of the old man’s eyes. Hyrule startled and blushed, standing up and bowing at the robed figure. 

“Nayru, Din, and Farore be with you, sir. Thank you for opening your house to me and my family.” Hyrule turned towards the other heroes and gestured for them to bow as well, introducing the recipient of their formalities as the Wise Man of Saria Town. For the first time in hours, Legend found his attention completely diverted.

To him, there was no need for Hyrule’s introduction; the veteran could feel the magical expertise rolling off this old man in waves, and his greeting was all the more sincere because of it. 

“Link, your affinity for formalities will never cease to amaze me. Hyrule is blessed to have such a polite hero. Now, sit down, gentlemen! No need to stay on your feet for a fossil like me.” Once the Wise Man saw his instruction followed to completion, he continued. “So, Link, this is your family? I must confess, part of me always felt like you were born from the dry dust of Hyrule Field in the kingdom’s most dire hour. What a crazy thought, is it not?” The Wise Man chuckled and prodded Hyrule’s chair with the blunt edge of his cane. “Would you care to introduce me to all these fine young men?” 

Hyrule laughed awkwardly, standing up and nodding once again.

“Of course, sir. This, as you know, is my family. That’s Wind and Four, they’re my little brothers,” Hyrule explained as he placed his hands on their shoulders, trying to ignore the sputtered protests and glares of indignation the two responded with. “These are my older brothers, Twilight, Wild, Warriors and Sky. Over there is Time. He’s my uncle.” Time’s chewing slowed. The hard muscles in his face softened ever so slightly. 

“What a lovely, happy, healthy family, young hero! And such fascinating names as well. I would love to hear the story behind them one day. But,” the Wise Man said with a mischievous grin, “you didn’t tell me the name of the one with the red tunic and grumpy face.” 

A titter went around the room and Legend looked up with a start. Why was he always the butt of jokes like these? Ugh. Well, it didn’t really matter. He was about to introduce himself on his own terms -- he was nobody’s little brother or uncle and wasn’t about to pretend to be one -- but the words died in his throat as Hyrule walked towards him. The brunet’s fingers hovered uncertainly above Legend’s shoulder, opting instead to carefully tuck a strand of pinkish hair behind the veteran’s ear. 

A very odd feeling burnt in Legend’s chest. 

“This is Legend, sir. He’s my best friend and hero.” 

The hot feeling in his chest grew searing and scalding. Legend coughed loudly, trying to break the oppressive silence in the room and the harsh stares all the other Links were sending his way. What? He had no control over who the kid made his role model. Wasn’t his fault. He glared back as if to communicate these exact sentiments. 

“It’s a wonderful thing to have a friend, Link. I’m very happy for you.” The smile in the Wise Man’s voice was audible. “But I must say, this young man looks a good deal like the Hero of Legend, at least from what I remember from the palace engravings...” 

The clattering of utensils and mashing of food stopped. Legend fiddled anxiously with the Lens of Truth. He didn’t look up, pulling the strings of hair Hyrule had tucked away back in front of his face.

“Oho! I must be going senile. Forgive this old man, won’t you, gentlemen?” the Wise Man said with an intelligent grin.

Uneasy laughter broke across the room, and the Links started to clean up after themselves. Bowls and plates were stacked in the sink, which Time adamantly insisted he would take care of, and bedrolls were dragged to the upstairs guest room. Blond heads came and went, carrying things, chatting easily, thanking the wonderful missus for her cooking and hospitality. A cozy silence settled over the house as the thump of boots eased off and disappeared altogether. 

Legend was alone in the darkened living room. The multitude of rings on his fingers twinkled in the moonlight, and his bracelet chinked quietly everytime he shifted. His soup and slice of pound cake, both untouched, sat forlornly on the table and silently envied the parental attention Legend showered onto the lens. 

“Mr. Hero, there’s no need to be so shy! The soup is delicious. I would know, my daughter made it, and the guest room is warm.” 

Legend’s head jerked up, surprised in part from the shaky voice and the familiar epithet, and bumped solidly against the brick wall he leaned against. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. I was just thinking.” 

“I can see, my friend.” The Wise Man took a seat on the chair across from Legend, grunting softly as his weight lifted from his rheumatic joints. “Rupee for your thoughts?” 

Blue eyes flickered up from the floor and fastened on the wizened face of the Wise Man. There was a hard, insistent urgency behind them that could only be described as eerie.

“Sir, do you happen to be a mage?” 

“Mage? Why, how did you know?” 

“Hyru- erm, Link, has told me that he learned some very powerful spells from mages across the kingdom during his second journey. I assumed you to be one of them.” 

Bushy, white eyebrows flickered upwards in surprise. The Wise Man leaned on his elbows and stared at Legend with the acute, warm curiosity that comes with being surprised at an old age. 

“You’re quite sharp, young man! I can see where Link’s admiration of you comes from. Do you wish for lessons? I can teach you much, but I must be upfront and say that the Life Spell is the only charm I cannot share with you. That is information privy only to those that bear the blood of the hero.” 

Once again, Legend bit back the words fizzing at the back of his throat. Now wasn’t the time to throw around his title and history for the sake of a few gasps and raised eyebrows. 

“I actually wanted your opinion on something. What do you make of the magic imbued in this lens?” Legend placed the Lens of Truth on the table’s mahogany surface. The moonlight bent and twisted around it, leaving only a blackened, artificial shadow in its wake.

“Hm.” The Wise Men took up the lens in his spidery, liver-spotted fingers and stared at it with a fascination that rivaled Legend’s. He turned it over in his hands and held it up to his eye. A curious, pained look etched itself onto his face -- the same expression of confusion and vague familiarity that Legend had felt. “It is certainly dark magic. But the curious thing is that it does not give off any aura of malice. How strange.” 

“I noticed the same thing!” Legend exclaimed, the tiny muscles in his neck straining from the sudden, unexpected swell in volume. “What do you make of it?” 

The Wise Man smiled and looked up at the veteran, placing the lens back on the table. The magenta handle shimmered smugly despite no light falling on it. 

“I’ve only read about artifacts like this,” the Wise Man began, “never seen one myself. My first guess would be to say that it was either enchanted by a light-magic mage with a proficiency in dark magic, or that it is a companion piece to another magical item.” 

This was new information. While Legend had been able to guess something along the lines of the Wise Man’s first statement, the second one held the meaninglessness foreign knowledge usually did. His eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Companion piece? I’ve never heard the term before.” 

“Do not shame yourself for your ignorance. Such artifacts are extremely rare, and information about them even rarer. Take it as this, you showed me a feather, and it could either be that of a seagull or the Thunderbird. It is more likely to be the former, but it is more interesting to postulate the latter.” Something within the hero twinged at the last example. He rolled the salty, bitter feeling against the roof of his mouth and back of his throat, swallowing it and before it could divert his attention. “The concept is simple, however. Two artifacts that complement each other in origin, magic type, and usage may, when combined, temporarily produce something greater than the sum of their parts. It’s a “hit or miss” phenomenon, as Link likes to call things. Artifacts are rarely built to be companionable, and when they are, it is often a matter of chance. But it is fun to think about, is it not? For example, a magical lens and, say, perhaps a portal, if they were companion pieces, may create a portal to a dimension between dimensions -- to a place that is both hypothetical and real at the same time. A lucid, living vision of the most sincere kind of lies.” 

A portal, hmm. 

A portal. 

A portal! 

Legend vaulted over the Wise Man, leather undersoles of his boots shrieking as he sprinted across the room and towards the corner where his inventory sat. The poor thing was utterly unprepared for the waterfall of affection Legend was about to drench it with. The hero cooed at his beloved artifacts and dug through the bag, eyes peeled for one item in particular. 

A-HA! 

There it was!

Pulling it out triumphantly, Legend held it in the air and grinned at the Wise Man. The old man’s eyes went wide -- whether from surprise or residual shock from Legend’s outburst it was impossible to tell -- and the hero sprinted over to his side. 

“Sir, take a look at this.” Legend said as he placed the Magic Mirror on the table, just adjacent to the Lens of Truth. The moonlight caught on the reflective surface and scattered across the ceiling. “This mirror serves as a portal to the Dark World. Do you think…” 

Legend’s hands trembled with excitement. The Wise Man’s eyes were even wider than before, clear and bright, and stared at the two artifacts with hushed amazement. The two sorcerers looked at each other with stupid, child-like smiles on their faces. 

**_WHAM_ ** _! _

The upstairs door swung open and slammed against the stone wall behind it. Four and Wind shouted something unintelligible before quite literally tumbling down the stairs, their attempts to find some sort of footing a perfect exercise in futility, and landed in a bruised lump on the floor. 

“Hiya, Legend!” Wind exclaimed as he wiggled out from underneath Four. 

Legend glared at him with fury fit to kill. The sailor shifted his gaze to the Wise Man as he helped Four get to his feet, a roguish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Uh, ‘xcuse me, mister, but do you have any whipped cream?” 

“Cream? Well, I believe my daughter keeps some on the bottom shelf. Are you hungry, gentlemen? There is plenty of leftover soup.” 

“No thank you, sir,” Four said as he swung open the cover of the cupboard and handed a jar of cream to Wind. “We just need it for something very important. Sorry to bother!” 

The two tiny heros ran up the stairs just as loudly as they’d come down, giggling riotously as they slammed the door behind them. 

“Those boys are so precious, are they not?” The Wise Man mumbled wistfully. 

“Sure. Now about these artifacts…” 

“Oh, yes. Indeed. I know an ancient fusion spell that would merge the artifacts together if they are indeed companionable.” The Wise Man’s fingers, trembling slightly from a combination of rheumatism and excitement, fastened around the mirror and lens. He mumbled a soft incantation under his breath, then overlaid the two artifacts and pressed them against each other.

A deep tremor shook the floorboards. Legend’s heart beat faster, thrumming in time with the magic’s heartbeat, jumping and bursting and screaming and pressing against the pale bones of his ribcage. He could feel the monsoon of magic raging around them, tearing at his hair, his skin, at the air he breathed in and the thoughts he was thinking. It was happening--it was happening! The whole world shone and sparkled and squealed under the weight of the magic; Legend’s vision frayed under its sheer force. A crimson flush dusted his face and his knuckles stuck out of the white skin of his hands. Light -- golden and grey and ashy and crystalline -- burst from between the Wise Man’s fingers and splashed on the walls. The world contracted and wailed and shook all at once. 

And then it vanished. The light swallowed itself and the magic retreated into the ground; the Wise Man pulled his hands away only for the Lens of Truth and Magic Mirror to clatter obstinately on the table top. 

“...perhaps not.” Legend grumbled. 

The Wise Man smiled and shrugged, the orange silk of his robe catching on the last few rays of magical light. He turned to Legend with a smile on his face. “Ohoho! Well, I suppose that this is the result of looking for the Thunderbird in a sky full of seagulls and swallows. Now, get yourself to bed, young man. I cannot have Link worrying about his self-proclaimed “hero” in the morning.” 

Legend scooped up the two artifacts with the angry resignation of a disappointed father. He walked softly up the staircase, waving to the Wise Man before he closed the door behind him. To say that what had just transpired was disappointing would have been the understatement of the century. Idly fidgeting with a ring on his pinky, Legend glowered at the sea of Links sleeping three to a bed. He angrily picked his way through the sparsely-furnished guest room. A wonder that there were enough beds for them after all. It was the least Hylia could do after that ridiculous little prank of hers. 

The disgruntled veteran found a spot beside Hyrule and Sky, who were presently curled up against each other. He placed the two artifacts on a tiny nightstand, balancing them on top of each other to save space, and settled onto the bed. A stray beam of moonlight shot through the window. The smell of soup and sweat hung in the air, tinged with the sugary aroma of cream. 

Cream?

Legend turned around. He almost slapped a hand to his face to hold in his laughter. Oh goddesses. Oh  _ goddesses. _ Legend turned red from the held-in snorts and giggles, staring at the scene in front of him with bulging eyes. Hyrule’s ears, hair, and hands had been generously showered with whipped cream. His lashes were covered with so much that it dripped onto the bedsheets in fat clumps. Four and Wild’s retribution for being called “little brothers,” he assumed. 

There was never a moment of peace around these guys. 

The last vestiges of his mirth dissolved, and Legend settled back onto the bed. He balanced himself on the thin sliver of mattress Sky and Hyrule had left for him. His muscles sighed with relief. His mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts of what could have been. What if it had worked? What would he have seen? What did the Wise Man mean when he said that the two artifacts could have created a portal to a dimension between dimensions? To a place that is both hypothetical and real at the same time? 

What was the lucid, living vision of the most sincere kind of lies he could have seen? 

He shifted his weight to the other side, reaching out subconsciously to grab the artifacts. Maybe he would send them a goodnight glare before dozing off... 

His hands scraped the nightstand surface and came back with nothing. 

Wait. 

Where...where were they? 

Legend jolted upwards, his movement rocking Hyrule and Sky’s sleeping form. Where were they? Where were the artifacts? Time was going to kill him. He was going to kill him. Where had they gone? Legend’s heart beat faster. He squinted through the darkness and swiped his hand again on the countertop. 

One of his rings dinged against something metallic. His fingers reached out and fastened around the handle of a mirror. 

Nearly fainting with relief, Legend pulled the Magic Mirror towards his chest. 

Wait. 

That wasn’t the Magic Mirror. 

Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the object of Legend’s scrutiny. It outlined the edges of an elegant hand mirror with a metal rim the same golden color as the Wise Man’s magic, diamond barbs adorning the top, and a massive reflective glass set in the middle. 

It looked a lot like the Magic Mirror, whatever it was. 

And it also looked like the Lens of Truth, just a little…

Wait. 

Wait. 

Legend nearly squealed when the realization hit him. He kissed the rim of the mirror with all the blush and tenderness of a love-sick farmboy. 

The artifacts  _ were  _ companionable. 

It had worked. 

IT HAD WORKED! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will come out on Thursday, and the Extreme Live Write for Chapter 4 is going to be this Wednesday. 
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter! Please let me know what you thought! If you've got any questions, conundrums, snarks, or general thoughts, don't feel afraid to leave them down below.
> 
> Alright, that's all I have to say. God bless you all! Please keep yourselves safe.


	3. The Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Legend's curiosity gets addicted after one hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So glad to see that you’re still around. I hope that you and yours are staying safe during this crazy and uncertain time. There are a few housekeeping things I need to get to before we begin. 
> 
> First of all, this chapter is much more graphic than the rest. For this reason the “body horror” tag has been added. This chapter is setting the precedent for the ones to come. 
> 
> Second of all, the RecommendedVibe for this chapter is actually the RecommendedVibes! There are a couple of different “movements” throughout the chapter, each with their own ambience and, uh, vibe, for lack of a better term. Here they are in order: Dragon Roost Island (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3CSWLFL5u8&t=4s), Ballad of the Goddess (Vocal Cover) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TvY0DJiRJtw), and Demise Phase 2 Theme (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z435mh-_Ns&t=660s). So, how are you supposed to know to listen to which song? There’ll be this little notation [*#] every time I suggest you play one of the songs, and [*#-] every time I recommend you stop it. So, [*1] would be my recommendation to start the first song, Dragon Roost Island, and [*1-] my recommendation to stop it. [*2] would be my recommendation to start the second, and [*3] to start the third. This sounds like a LOT of work for just reading a fanfiction, I know! But I cannot possibly express how much I recommend these tracks. They’ll bring out something completely new in the story. And if you do listen to the songs, please leave your thoughts down below! I want to know what you thought about the way they fit in with the story, and if you thought the annotation was too distracting. 
> 
> Anyway, let’s begin!

The pink pads of Legend’s fingertips reverently brushed the mirror’s handle, running themselves over the tiny engravings and elegant handiwork. Under the sparse moonlight he could barely make out the ridges and bumps of carefully-etched Sheikah symbols on the mirror's rim. The Sheikah magic in the Lens of Truth must have been very strong, then, for it to persist even during fusion. Even now, he could feel the lens' dark magic intermingling with the cascade of light magic the Magic Mirror had always contained. But the enchanted aura of this artifact was much less stable than either of its constituents: intense, dark, and almost uncouthly passionate. While the Lens of Truth had a certain, smug mysteriousness about it, and the Magic Mirror had a quiet, enigmatic confidence, this artifact...

This was something entirely different.

His hands hovered over the mirror's surface and his own pale, angular face stared back at him. With a start, he noticed the delicate web of capillaries that pulsed against his sclera and the split, dirty ends of his bangs -- he needed a good nap and a good shower more than anything else right now.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen. Not when Hylia had decided to pity his ravaging, insatiable curiosity by giving it something to feast off of. Legend turned the mirror over in his hand, wondering what exactly this...thing...could do. It didn't have a name, not that he could tell, and when the realization dawned on him that he got to name it himself, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Well, it would be easier to name the artifact once he knew what it did. He was no fan of obscure, enigmatic names as the other heros were, so it shouldn’t be difficult. Time could keep his "Golden Gauntlets" and "Lens of Truth." To Legend, simple names like "Magic Mirror" and "Magic Cape" were far superior. The veteran flipped the artifact back over. The mirror’s glass was an odd, shimmering shade of gold, almost like it had been coated by liquid yellow diamonds before placement into the rim. The longer Legend stared at it, the brighter it got. 

Perhaps it was a portal? What was it that the Wise Man had said earlier, about what the hypothetical-turned-real artifact could do? Something about a dimension between dimensions. He nodded to himself. It would make sense, this artifact seemed hungry enough to bend space and time itself.

For a second, Legend wondered if it was actually a good idea to be fiddling around with this thing. He instantly brushed the thought away.

He'd been messing with reality, space, time, and the fate of a kingdom his entire life. This would be nothing for the Hero of Legend. 

Really, what's the worst that could happen?

Legend stared at the mirror's golden glass with redoubled intensity. This always worked with the Magic Mirror; just looking into it long enough would be enough to suck him into the Dark World. That didn't seem to be the case with whatever-this-was. And it couldn't have the same functionality as the Lens of Truth, if only for the simple reason that it wasn't a lens. Legend settled backwards on the cushions. He flinched as Hyrule muttered softly in his sleep and shifted closer towards him, reaching out a callused hand for the frayed corner of Legend’s tunic.

The veteran hero subconsciously flicked the hand away and got to his feet. Perhaps if the Wise Man was still awake they could figure this out together. Eyes still trained on the mystery mirror, Legend began to pick his way across the room. The moonlight was bright enough to ensure he wasn’t stumbling around blindly, but too dim to give him any confidence that he wouldn’t trip over a stray bag or bedpost. 

He gave the mirror a half-hearted, throwaway glance. 

His eyelids opened so wide that the muscles underneath them strained. 

The mirror's glass was no longer golden, instead, it was a dull, obsidian black. The metal around it boiled with magic and shook temperamentally under his grasp: insistent, demanding, impatient. 

Blue eyes flitted around the silent room, trying to find the source of the disturbance. Something had provoked the mirror's tantrum. There was no competing magical aura in the room, aside from the petulant shivering and hissing of the artifact in his hands, so it couldn’t be that. And there weren’t any monsters nearby -- Hyrule had assured them that Ganon’s lackeys never traveled this close to civilization. His eyebrows cinched as his chin fell to his chest. What could it be? He let the artifact drop to his side. 

He nearly screamed when the metal flared and burned his skin.

It wanted something.

Whatever this thing was, it wanted something, and it wanted it NOW.

The smell of charred flesh filled Legend's nostrils. He pointedly ignored the melted strings of his skin clinging to the metal, thankful for his incredibly high pain tolerance, and looked around for an object he'd never seen. What did this thing want? What did it--

His eyes alighted on Wind's sleeping form. The artifact in his hand cooled in recognition of his epiphany, almost as if to apologize for its earlier outburst, and all but pulled Legend towards the sleeping boy. Legend crouched down to get a closer look. A halo of bright hair swept across the flat bridge of Wind's nose and cheeks, fluttering in the rouge breeze. The undersides of his fingernails were still crusted with the retributionary cream he'd smeared on Hyrule earlier that night, and a sweet, content smile tickled the pale skin of his lips.

Legend's soul revolted within himself. 

He would rather have his entire arm burned off than sacrifice a _child_ to...whatever this was.

A rusty voice spoke up in the back of his mind and cut off his thoughts. 

_"Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?”_

The artifact. It had almost the same reverberating voice as the Master Sword, albeit cracked and somber from millenia of disuse. 

He said nothing. He thought nothing. The artifact repeated its question. 

_“Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?”_

Oh. 

The mirror didn’t want to hurt Wind. The mirror didn’t want to hurt anyone. It just wanted to show Legend a vision of each hero ‘ _through their own eyes.’_ Legend's eyes widened greedily. A thousand questions effervesced to the tip of his tongue. He bit them back. Magical artifacts weren't known for their straightforwardness or conversationality, and besides, he was growing impatient. 

The artifact asked its question for the third time. 

Legend nodded.

The world turned white. The ground beneath his feet tore itself away, and the terrifying lightnessness that came with nighttime terrors of falling shook his entire body. Reality spun and spilled around him, sloughing away in brilliant, iridescent shards as his consciousness was ripped away and ejected into another dimension.

[*1]

He woke up in a room with no sound and no light and no air. The only thing he knew was that he was choking, he was drowning, that the darkness had forced its way up his nostrils and into the back of his mouth. Tastebuds he didn't know he had revolted at the bitter taste of ash, and he coughed pathetically. Slowly, he got to his feet, almost smiling at the sight of his bare feet and the brown, itchy cloth of his pajama pants beneath him. The mirror had been kind enough to let him keep not only his consciousness, but body as well.

In most situations, that was a good thing. 

He decided he would interpret it as such. 

Legend's legs started moving, towards what and for what neither him nor his appendages could fathom. The black eventually melted into blue; the crisp, clean smell of sea and salt and sand carried on a breeze of unknown and unknowable origin. With nothing else to do, the hero kept walking, marveling as the world took form around him. The ground beneath him became water -- water he walked on as if he was a son of a goddess -- and a distant, sandy hill came into view. A tall silhouette stood on the hill's highest crest, face and form indecipherable from the distance between them. 

High, shrill notes of a pan flute floated by Legend's pointed ears. They were cheerful and lilting, accompanied by the rapid bristle of a guitar, and melted in the airless atmosphere as soon as they were born. The figure in distance finally came into view as the music and lapping waves reached a crescendo.

Wind.

It was Wind, but taller, stronger, prouder. An emerald tunic strained against the tight muscles of his chest and pinched the bones of his slender hips, skirting around sinewy thighs. A long, droopy cap fluttered genialy in the breeze behind him and waved mischievously at the dumbfounded Legend. There was a cool confidence in his shoulders; despite the fact that they were bundled with sheets of strong, stringy muscles, they were relaxed and easy. Two hands, broad and smooth, rested on the purple hilt of the Master Sword. His hair was an almost neon yellow, bleached from the sun and glossy with health. Wind's lips were set into a blashempously calm smile. His dark, cunning eyes stared straight through Legend, as if the veteran hero was nothing more than a ghost.

The mirror's harsh, rusted words came to mind. 

_“Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?”_

Legend's eyes pricked upwards and a subdued thoughtfulness settled onto his shoulders. Of course. _Of course._ This made so much more sense than it was supposed to. This was who Wind saw himself as, the hero Wind knew himself to be: confident, proud, and strong. This was the Wind he tried so hard to communicate to the others, only to have his hair ruffled and be dubbed the group's collective "little brother." Legend took a tentative step forward, relaxing imperceptibly when the movement went seemingly unregistered by pseudo-Wind, and reached out towards the smiling ghost.

The vision started to crack, first browning around the corners and then shattering from the center. Legend swallowed a scream and stared hard at the ghost as his consciousness roiled within him. He bit back the urge to resist the pull of reality when a flash of recognition skirted across the ghost's dark eyes.

Light.

Dark.

Sea.

Wood.

[*1-]

Legend's body crashed onto the room's wooden floor. The overpowering stench of smouldering skin and stomach acid smacked him upside the head, and every muscle in his body contracted at once. He breathed in deeply, greedily swallowing the air, and turned over on his back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Wind's sleeping form -- just as small and precious as ever. He instinctively checked his magic reserves. They hadn’t even been touched. As his vision began to clear and the fear subsided, a familiar fire burned at the back of his head.

This mirror.

This portal.

The tiny muscles lacing his knuckles moved on their own accord, grabbing the mirror that laid next to him and drawing it close to his face. His breathing slowed. His mind raced. This mirror. This portal. This...

To just say it was amazing would have been the epitome of an anticlimax, but the veteran's mind could think of no other word. This thing was a portal to a dimension between dimensions, a harbinger of visions both true and false, a witness to the most sincere kind of lies...and it laid in the palm of his hands. The mirror had answers to questions he didn’t know he had.

A curious, hungry lust burned in his chest. Answers. Answers. That's what he wanted. That's _all_ he wanted. That's what the mirror wanted to give. He pushed himself to his feet. The mirror sat coldly in his hands. Its glass was golden again. He made his way across the room, legs heading towards the bed but mind racing for a reason to stay awake. Maybe the mirror still had something to give? It had to, it hadn’t unfused into its components yet. He had to stay awake. He had to see. Legend stared at the golden glass, silently hoping for it to turn ashy once more and invite him back inside.

The mirror was silent. It didn't burn, shiver, or shake, instead dangled from the tips of his burned fingers with resistance and resolution comparable to that of a dead man. Was it tired? Perhaps it had drawn on its own magic reserve. The Wise Man had said that these fusion artifacts were unstable and temporary, so maybe the magical aura was settling down before splitting back up. The warped, melted flesh of his palms nuzzled against the mirror's cool handle. He would have to heal that before anyone noticed, but all his healing potions were downstairs. His brows furrowed as Legend made his way back to the bed where Sky and Hyrule were sleeping. The two had shifted around so much in their sleep that there wasn’t any room for him now, but that wasn’t really an issue. His mind mulled over the issue that was, quite literally, at hand. He needed to either heal the burn or have a story for it -- and if he wasn't in the mood for interrogation now, he wouldn't be in the morning. 

Time let out a massive, wet snore that nearly ripped Legend out of his skin. The veteran hero, surprised and unstable on his feet, toppled backwards onto the bed Hyrule and Sky were sleeping on. His bones banged against theirs, but, miraculously, neither of them woke up. Legend shifted uncomfortably between the two sleeping heros and pulled the mirror out from under him. Some of the cream smeared on Hyrule's face and hands had rubbed off on the side of the bed where Legend was supposed to be sleeping (not a big deal, in all honesty, he knew he wasn't sleeping tonight) and a vial of red potion dangled from his belt. Most likely, the traveler had forgotten to leave it downstairs. How beautifully convenient! Legend unclipped it softly and took a swing of the drink, smiling as the blistered, burgundy skin on his hand cooled and healed. Hyrule wouldn't be mad, he thought as he clipped the potion back to the traveler's belt, and he would make sure to pay back the traveler the next day. Legend's fingers curled idly around the mirror's handle and he brought it to his face to check that the red potion hadn't left a crimson scrim on his upper lip. 

Legend was confused for only a split second, then he gasped.

The glass was pitch black.

It was still awake, and it had something to show him.

Legend grinned, previous preoccupations completely forgotten, and inched closer towards Hyrule. The mirror began to clear, almost turning golden once again, and Legend scooted backwards. Okay, it was clear the mirror had no interest in Hyrule. Vertebrae in his back popped as he twisted around, and Legend panned the mirror over Sky's sleeping face. The last vestiges of gold on the mirror's glass were instantly replaced by crashing, boiling waves of black.

_"Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?”_

"Yes," he heard himself whisper. There was no hesitance in his voice this time. 

The world seized once again, shattering around the edges and sending thin, spidery cracks across his vision. Darkness pooled between the fragments, oozing between small shards of reality and swallowing them whole. The floor was gone, the air was gone, his mind and emotions and pale, sleep-deprived body were sent hurling through a bridge between worlds.

[*2]

He didn't need to catch himself this time. With a soft thump, his feet hit the floor, and his mouth was assaulted by the taste of metal and snow. The slippery taste clung to his tongue, and Legend ran the back of his hand over it in an attempt to wipe the tang away. It only grew stronger. Oh well, so be it. It didn’t matter. Anyway, there was no need to stand here. He knew how this thing worked. Nothing was going to get done if he stood here and lamented the odd taste in his mouth or the very, very bad feeling in his chest.

Legend didn't walk this time, he ran, he sprinted down the airless, soundless, lightless corridor. The world created itself as he moved, replacing black with white, the vacuum with whispers of music, the emptiness with the crisp, clean scent of air never breathed in before.

Cool, gentle, white fingers combed through his hair, and Legend noticed with a start that he was quite literally walking through clouds. He sent a tentative glance to the endless expanse of blue underneath his feet and praised the mirror for forgetting to introduce gravity to this fever dream. There was no ground beneath him, and he walked on the surface of the sky with ease.

The quavering soprano of a harp threaded its way through the silence, careful and slow. No other instruments accompanied it except the hushed singing of a child, the heavy smell of heartache thick in each note. It sounded almost familiar, like a hymn reversed or a favorite childhood lullaby played backwards, and Legend's thrumming heart slowed. He started walking faster, refusing to let himself melt into the music. He was here to meet someone, not to listen to pretty harp music. Clouds stared curiously at the hero as he ran through their wet bosoms, and Legend blinked away the dewey residue they left on his eyelashes. Up ahead, he could make out a figure standing sleepily on a small, grassy hill.

He didn't need to be told that this was the pseudo-Sky he'd come here to meet. The Sky saw himself as. Frankly, Legend wasn’t expecting much. Sky had always struck him as a pretty well-put together guy, and the veteran’s mind was already thinking of which of his other incarnations might offer a more interesting vision.Legend’s legs carried him towards the distant figure regardless, and his burning curiosity propelled him forward each step. As he approached, the clouds around ghost Sky started to shift. They clustered in Sky, almost queuing up behind each other, and gradually took on an uncomfortably familiar form. The wind first whipped the clouds into something vaguely humanoid, then pulled back the sides of their heads into pointed ears. A biting breeze whizzed around the clouds and sculpted chests and legs and something resembling tunics and swords. 

Cloud Links. An army. They covered the entire blue expanse ahead, standing shyly and awkwardly in front of the figure on the hill. Legend drew closer, drawing himself up onto the grassy hill where Sky’s ghost stood. Completely ignored by the spectral figures around him, Legend stared at the scene with comfortable amazement. 

Sky, eyes half-closed in his ever present amiable grin, unsheathed the Master Sword from its scabbard and held it out to the first Cloud Link in front of him. The white, puffy arms reached out for the sword. They turned black the instant it held the hilt. The Cloud Link screamed as he was torn from the inside out, blistering boils of red and black and blue bubbled and popped across his chest, and his existence was wiped away by a vicious breeze. Each Link that stepped up met the same fate. A scream, then they were nothing. The air grew thick with black smog, bitter and angry and ashy. Each Link stepped up in front of Sky, blank eyes hopeful and ignorant, only to watch as their bodies were shredded where they stood.

Ghost Sky was still smiling: unseeing, unfeeling, unknowing. 

He kept holding out the sword. 

He kept murdering the Cloud Links.

The harp music continued happily on.

Bile crept into Legend’s mouth. 

[*2-] [*3]

The music began to quaver, and Legend noticed that something black and scaly was creeping up Sky's arms. The skin split and sloughed off, revealing hard, obsidian sheafs underneath, and Legend's eyes widened as a white X drew itself on the ghost's forehead. Puffs of charcoal leaked from Sky's eyes, which had grown small and hard and orange, and trailed down his face in the imitation of tears. The music exploded into an orchestral wail; the drums shook, the choir screamed, the violins shrieked. Sky's hair slowly turned from blond to black to bright and flaming. His chest, now covered in scales, bulged and tore through the green cloth of his tunic.

The demon was still smiling; smiling a horrible, grieving, heart-broken smile.

There were no more Cloud Links left. 

The Master Sword clattered to the floor. Legend moved instinctually to pick it up, only to be knocked back by the demon on the hill.

Sky, Sky's ghost, Sky's demon, whatever _it_ was, stared at him blankly before letting out the most terrified, devastated howl Legend had ever heard.

It opened its mouth to speak, to scream, to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but Legend was already falling. The sky, black, red, and green, throbbed and bled as the veteran hero plummeted into an uncreated abyss.

Red.

Green.

Hero.

Demon.

[*3-]

Legend's face, wet with sweat and tears he didn't know he shed, stuck to the bed's fabric. He didn't need to breathe, he didn't want to breathe, he didn't want to do anything. He didn't want to think about what he'd just seen, or what he'd just learned, or the implications of what he should do now.

His fingers reached for the mirror if only to console himself, the same way one might reach for a mother’s hand after being spanked or cling to a toy being torn away. But his hands wrapped around two individual artifacts. The Lens of Truth and Magic Mirror. They’d unfused.

Well, he’d had enough excitement. Perhaps the same was true for them.

He laughed. There was no hint of mirth in the hollow, choking noise. 

Since when had he become so quick to lie to himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ve read all the way to here? I’m honored! :D If you’ve got any thoughts, questions, or criticism for me, please don’t feel afraid to leave a comment. I always respond, and I don’t think I can thank the people who have already left kudos and comments so far enough. You guys are amazing and are a major, major reason I keep writing. God bless you all! (✿╹◡╹)


	4. The Dissolving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Legend does the best with the information he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I hope you all have been staying safe. Please enjoy the next chapter! 
> 
> The vibe for this chapter is Ori, Lost in the Storm (Extended). Here is the link! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7eD7jEhqR3s)

Legend woke up to the sound of humming and the disturbing sensation that the fabric of reality was being torn from underneath him. He sputtered and sat upright in the bed, promptly smacking his forehead into Sky's chin.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up," Sky said with a half-lidded smile. "It's just that the lady wanted to wash this bed sheet and I offered to help her out. Somehow Hyrule got cream all over it and she said it'll make the linen go bad." The bleary, confused look on Legend's face was met by a gentle chuckle from the other hero. "You can sleep on one of the other beds, though, if you'd like. We’re not going to be leaving for another half an hour or so.” 

It smelled like morning and clouds and screaming, weeping demons. Legend felt his muscles spasm and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

"Woah! Legend, Legend! It's alright. It's alright, look, it's just me. Look, hey! Look here. Look! Listen to me, Legend! Legend! It's me, it's Sky. You know me. It’s alright. It’s okay. Calm down, you’re safe. It’s just me."

The cool metal of the Lens of Truth and the Magic Mirror pressed up against the bones on the underside of Legend's fingers. The skin of his knuckles stretched tight over his bones, and the artifacts’ handles shook under his grip. Everything was blurry. Everything was red. Everything smelled like burning clouds and tears and crippling guilt.

That voice, though...

He knew that voice...

His femur crunched against the bone of his hip socket as his chest tipped forward. He was falling…

Falling..

Falling...

"Hey, I've got you,” Sky cooed. “It's alright. Whatever happened was just a dream, okay? You're okay. It's okay." Unfamiliar fingers ran through his hair. Legend squinted at the blurry form in front of him and, upon recognition, nearly crumpled in relief.

Sky. Oh, it was just Sky. Oh, thank Hylia. It was just Sky. Just the happy, lazy, vaguely irresponsible Sky, who had blue eyes, not orange ones, who had blond hair, not red. Legend’s temple rested against Sky's collarbone for just a moment longer before he pulled himself out of the embrace. His heart wasn't pounding anymore. Legend blinked quickly and got to his feet, trying to walk off the pins-and-needles in his legs, deaf to the words falling out of Sky’s mouth. So many words were said, words of the comforting, meaningless, cliche sort, words he didn't really hear. There was mention of breakfast and travel and laundry and red and green and a blue sword and a broken-hearted hero with a soul so wracked with grief it found no relief outside of self-flagellation. And then the world was black and grey and Legend was left with the sinking, sinking hopelessness that came with knowing you had no control. His breath became short. He blinked quickly. The world came back. Sky kept talking, a confused, sluggish smile creeping back on his face as he mistook the Legend's blank stare for attentiveness. Words, words, more words, and Legend found himself breaking the brief lull in their one-sided conversation.

"Hey, I can take those from you," the veteran heard himself say. 

"The bedsheet?" Sky wondered aloud as Legend took the bundled linens out of his hand, "Oh! That's quite nice of you. Are you sure? You don't look too good."

"Mmmm, don't worry about it." The prickly, uncomfortable conviction that he should say more tugged at the hairs at the back of his neck. Sky, clearly baffled but not one to argue about having mundane household chores lifted off his back, shrugged and smiled. The veteran found himself walking downstairs and out to the backyard, where a small tin tub and block of soap stood waiting.

He didn't realize he'd taken the lens and mirror along with him until he dumped the sheet into the tub and heard the tell-tale clank of metal on wood. Oh no. Oh _no._ Every half-decent mage knew that magic and water rarely mixed: the artifacts’ enchantments were liable to dissolve if left in there for too long. Blood screamed in the small matrix of veins behind his ears, and his hands shot forward into the tub. He pulled both artifacts out of the water before his heart had taken another full beat and neurotically dried them on his tunic. A hot glob of air stuck itself in his throat. Legend coughed dryly. Praise Hylia, both artifacts looked fine. 

A demonic, curious part of him hummed with relief.

"Mr. Legend!" a feminine voice cried out behind him, "please don't worry yourself about the linens! Sir, please. I can't have a guest do housework in good conscience." The Wise Man’s daughter crept up next to him and fiddled awkwardly with the corner of her apron. Her face was set in a tight, uncomfortable grimace. 

"Ma'am," Legend began with a smile, "please believe me when I say these chores are more of a pleasure to do than anything else. I've been traveling for a long time. It's nice to something normal like this every now and then." His eyes lingered on the white, frothy suds drifting lazily on the top of the water. He turned to face the woman. "However, would you mind terribly if I did ask you a favor?"

"Oh, of course not!"

"Sky and Wind. You know them?"

The woman nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on her face. "Wind is the little one with the blue shirt, and Sky is the, uh..."

"The sleepy, lazy one, yeah." Legend smiled as the woman giggled into her hands. His focus drifted to the blue mountains in the distance. "May you please, if possible, give them something sweet to eat? A pastry, perhaps, or maybe something cold for the journey? I understand if it's not possible, I really do. But, well, don't let them know I told you this, but they've...been through a lot lately. Maybe this would cheer them up a little bit."

The woman's face brightened at the idea. She started to say something, but second-guessed herself and quickly hurried off towards the house. Legend's heart was warmed by her eagerness. It was a good thing to know that people didn't necessarily need the blood of the hero to be altruistic and compassionate. He turned his attention away from the woman and back to the laundry in front of him. The water swirled and burbled happily as Legend gently cleaned the bedsheets. There was something soothing in the repetitive, mindless movements. Scrub, press, check for stains. Repeat. Scrub, press, check for stains. Repeat. Repeat. Watch the cream stains fade and surrender, watch the cloth darken with water. Scrub, press check for stains. The mountains looked so pretty from where he was sitting. Repe--

"Legend!"

The veteran turned around, not at the sound of his name, but at the loud, uneven footsteps he would recognize anywhere.

"....morning," Legend said, suspiciously eyeing the bottle Hyrule carried in his hands. Brownish, clumpy water sloshed around within, and the murky silhouette of what looked like a dead fish floated inside.

"Good morning," Hyrule cheerfully responded. "I got you breakfast!"

"Where is it?" Legend questioned, trying to distract himself from his growing dread.

"Right here!"

Of course.

The bottle. 

Legend opened his mouth slowly, carefully picking his next words. "What is it?" 

"Fesikh," Hyrule answered. "You've never seen it?"

"Can't say I have." 

"It's something like, uh, pickled fish. It's really good, a delicacy, even! The Wise Man’s daughter and I made it just for you!" The excited grin on Hyrule's face started to slip when he saw how Legend shirked away from the bottle.

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll be able to eat that. I haven't -- uh -- I'm not really hungry. Maybe something lighter? Do you guys have any bread and cheese?" The skin of Legend's hands had started to wrinkle and bloat in the soapy water. 

"Oh, uh, I think Wild made omelettes. He's in front of the house with the other guys -- Time went out to ask the townspeople if they needed help with anything and we're just waiting for him to come back before we head out." 

"Sounds good. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Legend turned back to the soaked bed sheet, which looked mostly clean at this point. The sound of Hyrule's footsteps faded behind him as the veteran hung the sheet up on the laundry wire. He'd done a good job cleaning it; not even a memory of the whipped cream could be found. Legend knelt down in front of the tub and washed his face and neck with the leftover water, scooping the less-sudsy bits of water into his hands and combed it through his hair. It trickled down his neck and along the ridge of his spine, leaving wet spots behind on the back of his tunic. Oh, that felt  _ so _ much better. He stood up and strung the lens and mirror to his belt. Now that the bedsheet was clean, he might as well go and get breakfast.

The smell of cooked eggs and steamed vegetables was almost too much for Legend's empty stomach to bear. He found himself sprinting around the house and over to Wild and barely refrained from tearing the proffered plate from the latter's hands. There was no doubt in anyone's minds that Legend would have eaten the whole thing with his hands if Four hadn't cautiously extended a set of utensils to him. A wet breeze skittered above the grass. Legend admired the small, careful clusters of horsetail grass that skirted the nearby river as he stuffed his face with breakfast. The other heros chatted quietly amongst themselves, drifting in and out of the house to collect and assemble their things. Warriors dropped off Legend's stuff on the step behind him, muttering something about only doing it because the veteran looked a little bit preoccupied.

A witty response was already building itself on the tip of his tongue but was cut off by the low, authoritative rumble of Time's voice. The Old Man had returned, and the tight look on his face betrayed the fact that he didn't come with good news.

"Alright, boys. From what I could gather, everyone in Saria Town is relatively happy and healthy. However, the River Man said something about a certain Darunia Town seeing a higher frequency of monster attacks than usual. From his description, they seem to be of the infected sort, and some of them have made their way to the city bounds."

Hyrule's eyes went wide at the news. Everyone turned to look at him, this was his Hyrule, after all, and he was the only one who could properly gauge how bad this situation was. And, if the ghostly pallor on his face meant anything, things weren't good.

"We'd better get going quickly, then," Hyrule began. "Darunia Town is in East Hyrule -- we'll have to cross the sea to get there and the closest dock is at least half a day's walk from here."

"Does the town have a militia to fend off the attackers until then?" Four wondered aloud as the group of heros began to pack up.

"Not exactly a militia, more like one knight. He's a very talented knight, of course, but I don't think he can protect the town by himself. The thing that worries me most is that Darunia has more children than any other town in West or East Hyrule."

"They need all the help they can get, then." Twilight asserted. The entire group nodded in agreement. Legend picked himself up off the step and tried not to heave -- this was exactly what happened when one ate too much too quickly -- slinging his bag over his shoulder as he hopped off the porch.

Just as they were all about to leave, the front door swung open and the Wise Man hobbled out.

"Gentlemen! A moment, please. I'm so sorry to disturb you all," the Wise Man apologized as he made slow, unsteady steps down the stairs. "I just need to speak to Mr. Legend about something. Is he still here?"

Legend, who was straggling behind the rest of the group, stuck his hand in the air. After a few seconds of deliberation, the group moved on without him, leaving the veteran with the warning to join them as quickly as the conversation was over. Slowly but surely, the Wise Man made his way over to where Legend stood. A yellow scroll, flaking at the edges, was bundled in his withered hand.

"I wrote the fusion spell down on this scroll, in case you wanted to attempt it once again," the Wise Man explained.

Legend took the scroll in his hand and casually unfurled the edges. He was half-inclined to give it back and explain that he couldn't read (he could, of course, just not anything written in Hyrule's Hylian) but the words died immediately in his throat.

Every word was written perfectly in his Hylian.

"It is a very ancient spell," the Wise Man continued, "so if you think you might have trouble reading it, I've got a dictionary right here that translates Modern Hylian to the Ancient variant."

"It's alright, sir. I can read this just fine."

"Of course, I should have expected no less from a young mage as talented and well-versed in magic as yourself."

Legend's throat burned. His stomach clenched. His fingers shook with adrenaline and his obsessive curiosity rejoiced with him.

"Thank you," Legend heard himself say, "but I don't think I'll have a chance to use it."

He cringed at his own blatant lie.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The beach's pink stand crunched loudly underneath the multitude of leather boots. Hyrule stood alone on a tiny dock -- not even a dock, really, more of a pathetic outcrop of rotted wood -- and stared at the crystal blue waters ahead.

"Is something wrong?" Sky questioned.

"Yes." Hyrule confessed. "I mean, uh, kind of. I realized just now that my raft probably won't be big enough for all of us." The thin, wiry brunet stepped aside from the doc to reveal a Hyrule-sized wooden raft bobbing in the water. "And the sea isn't safe to swim in...unless you're a River Zora with a, uh, magical force field or something, you won't be able to make it across."

For some reason, this earned a chuckle from Time.

"I mean, we could just make another raft," Wind suggested.

"I've got a few extra bundles of wood with me, as well as some rope. It’s pretty flimsy, though, so if anyone has got binding materials that are a little tougher it might be a good idea to use those instead," Wild said.

"Perhaps we should buy some rope," Warriors mused. The captain turned to Hyrule. "Do you know if there's any place nearby where we can find some?"

"They might sell some sort of fishing rope over in Mido Town," Hyrule said, pointing to the distant shadow in the vague shape of a town. "We can also get lunch from there, since Wild would be using most of his firewood to make the raft."

"Mido Town?" Time mumbled to Legend. "What an odd name."

"I dunno, 'The Water Town of Saria' was also pretty weird."

"I suppose you're right," Time conceded with a wistful smile.

Wild, with Twilight's help, had already laid out a rough raft scaffolding. Four suggested that they just head into the nearby woods to cut down a few trees and expedite the process, but Wind pointed out that the forest was too unfriendly for exploits of the kind.

"Ah, you remembered what I told you about the forest?" Hyrule sheepishly asked Wind.

"Of course. I listen to you when you talk, Hyrule."

This only made the traveler smile wider, but the sailor had already gotten himself knee-deep into a squabble with Warriors.

"Please, Wind, I think I can handle something as simple as overseeing the construction of a raft," Warriors asserted, chin pointed loftily over his shoulder.

"I'm an islander  _ and  _ a sailor!" Wind protested. "I know a thing or two about rafts. I can handle being in charge for three seconds, you know!" 

Legend watched the entire exchange with a bitter taste in his throat.

“Wind, just go help Four untie that bundle over there,” Warriors sighed, waving away the indignant sailor glaring up at him. The captain turned his eyes to the rest of the group. “We’ll need two people to go into town to get rope and lunch. Wind, Sky, that will be you guys.” 

Legend grinned. This was the perfect opening. 

“Hey, Wars, d’ya think I could swap out with Wind?” the veteran questioned off-handedly. 

“What, scared of a little hard work? Wait, no, let me guess, you’re scared of rafts? Is that right?” Warriors teased, obviously a little more than irked at the constant questioning of his leadership. 

The veteran chuffed at Warriors’ comment and shrugged, blinking slowly and lazily. “Nah, not quite. I haven’t been feeling too good lately, Sky can testify to that,” he said, jerking a thumb towards the smiling Skyloftian, “and I think a little walk would help clear my head. You know? And also, I think the sailor’ll do a much better job of overseeing this than you think. Don’t forget that this guy literally stuck the Master Sword in Ganondorf’s forehead.” 

The Links were silent. 

Legend smirked so hard that his cheeks hurt. 

Wind looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to cry or crush Legend into a massive hug. 

“So, what’ll it be, pretty boy?” Legend quipped. 

Warriors rolled his eyes, but there was a resigned scarlet flush on the tip of his ears. Legend was sure it wasn’t from the heat. 

“Okay, sure, whatever. Wind can supervise. I’ll supervise his supervising. Is that better?” 

Everyone nodded in casual agreement, and Wind let out a wild whoop _.  _ His eyes met Legend’s for a brief moment, sparkling with gratitude. 

For some reason, even this victory wasn’t comforting. It was too temporary of a fix. Legend broke eye contact and looked away. 

“Uh, everyone? I-In regards to lunch, do you guys want to know what they sell in Mido Town? I spent a lot of time there during my journey -- they’ve got really good food. If you guys want to, uh, want to choose, I can tell Sky what they have, and he can write a list. Then you guys can choose what you like.” 

Everyone was grateful for the diversion Hyrule supplied and crowded around the traveler without a second thought. It was only a matter of minutes before each hero had decided what they wanted, and more than one Link was watering at the mouth at the prospect of lunch.

“So,” Sky began, reading the finalized list out loud, “Time, Wars, and Wild want meat rice, Twi and I want salad, Wind and Four want shrimp, Legend wants, uh….bread?”

“Hey, I‘m not a picky person. Carbs are good for long term energy storage, anyway.” Legend explained. Four hummed in quiet agreement. Sky shrugged and continued on. 

“And finally, Hyrule wants...oh dear, I can’t read my handwriting. Hyrule wants… H-A-L-V-A?” Sky said, the questioning inflection thick in his voice. 

“Halva!” Hyrule replied cheerfully. “It’s like a really sweet paste. Don’t worry, there’s only one food vendor in the whole town, and he sells all of this stuff. You won’t be able to forget anything even if you tried.” 

Sky and Legend looked at each other and shrugged, waving goodbye to the group as they veered off the path and made their way to Mido Town. The thwack of wood-on-wood and the high-pitched shout of Wind’s instructions faded as the two heroes walked on. The sun beat down relentlessly, glinting off the glassy sand and burning into the lacy hair on their heads. 

Mido Town was even hotter and quieter than the path leading to it. A sun-baked wind blew through the shells of abandoned buildings, pushing around the crumbled remains of brick and mortar. Pink sand hovered in gritty clouds. It fluffed and plumed up to their waists every time the two heroes took a step. The faint imprints of their footsteps were swept away by a floor-length wind. 

The villagers eyed them quietly. No one smiled. No one waved. Blinds closed. Doors shut. If it weren’t for the suspicious, life-weary eyes peering at them through darkened windows, Legend and Sky would have assumed the place to be abandoned. 

Was this the kind of treatment Hyrule received during his journeys? 

“Are you alright?” Sky queried, only half-looking for the vendor Hyrule had mentioned. 

“Mmmm. It’s a great thing to see that this is the world I left behind for Hyrule. Nice to see that this is the fruit of my labors.” Legend’s voice was deadpan and flat despite the obvious ire in his words. 

Sky said nothing. Grief flickered across his face. 

“This is the world I left behind for all of you,” Sky mumbled to himself. His voice was barely audible over the humming of sifting sand. 

“Ugh, Sky, you aren’t to blame for any of this,” Legend said. “And anyway, there isn’t a point in looking for someone to blame. It’s, it’s not going to fix anything. Beating yourself up for something you can’t control isn’t...uh...it isn’t a very smart thing to do.” His voice and thoughts and confidence began to trail off, but Legend forced himself to continue. “Let me just say that you’re so much stronger than you think you are. I, uh, I think Hylia made a wise choice.” 

Legend turned to his companion and rested a hand on Sky’s shoulder. He had no more words left to say, nothing left inside his brain but the overwhelming conviction that he should be doing more. Should he confess? Should he tell Sky that he knew -- that he knew  _ so  _ much more than he should? That he knew everything Sky was trying to hide? 

His soul fragmented under the weight of his guilt. 

Sky gently curled his fingers around Legend’s wrist. His thumb rested on a vein on the underside of the veteran’s arm, and his breathing slowed to keep time with the blood’s calm thrum. A tear dribbled off Sky’s face and landed in the hot dust below, darkening and clumping the fine grains together. Eyes, dark and dull and unbelieving and flashing with ghostly wisps of orange, glittered with tears. Legend squeezed Sky’s shoulder and pulled away, lost for words and lost in thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was just a pit stop on the Angst Train, but I hope you were able to enjoy it anyway! I wanted to have a chapter for Legend to sit and reflect on himself, and I'm planning for there to be quite a few of these transitory sort of chapters. I'm planning and outlining carefully to make them all as interesting as possible, so hopefully the future reflection chapters won't be as slow as this one. If you've got any thoughts, observations, or questions, please don't feel afraid to leave a comment down below! I always read and respond as soon as I'm able. 
> 
> God bless you all! Please stay safe.


	5. The Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beach is ruined. 
> 
> It's Hyrule's fault. 
> 
> (aka: "The Kool Aid Chapter," courtesy of Tofutti)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you all might have been wondering where I’ve been and why it seems like the fic suddenly died, so let me give you guys the explanation you deserve. My access to computers has been cut down dramatically, and most of the time I end up having to handwrite fics first before I can type them up in the 2 hour time slot I’m given on the computer. That's really really timeconsuming, and it kinda sucks! But on the bright side, I just got a new phone and it looks like my computer restrictions might be lightening up a little bit in the future, so, don’t worry, the fic isn’t dead! (And neither are any of my other ones: I want to open up writing commissions on my tumblr soon, and I’m only going to do that when I finish all my other WIPs!)
> 
> The recommended songs for this chapter is NF - Let You Down | Official Instrumental (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E859KlHbN98) It’s not long enough to cover the whole song, but the instrumental is such straight fire that I’m sure you’ll be repeating it on your own accord. 
> 
> Alright, to the story!

It was everywhere. 

The thick crimson sludge laid thick and heavy on Hyrule's lashes. It was hot and steaming and lifeless, sinking into the small grooves of his face and fingers and leaving a telltale ruby smear wherever he tried to rub it away. Spirals and splotches and puddles of it were scattered across the beach. The pink sand was now saturated with crimson: dark, clumpy, and somber, flayed and splayed across the violated, mutilated beach

All of it was his. 

Long, spidery fingers of carmine spiraled out in crescents around his weakening figure, cradling him the same way the leaves of a dying flower cup a butterfly. 

His consciousness was slipping. 

Hyrule noted this fact with half-closed eyes and blue lips and frightening indifference. His fingers were pressed to the hard, flat bone of Wind's sternum and his other arm was slung underneath the sailor's neck. Every remaining ounce of magic was poured out from his blood, bruised body to Wind's. 

Let Ganon come back. 

He didn’t care.

He was going to save this kid even if it meant he would bleed out and die on this Goddess-forsaken beach. 

If it cost him his sanity, so be it. If it cost him his life, so be it. 

Hyrule coughed and his eyes threatened to roll to the back of his head. There was a sputter and stop in the flow of magic. He felt his mind slipping. His magic reserves were empty, no surprise, really, he was shocked he hadn't exhausted it long before. Blue fingers weaved through the assortment of empty bottles clipped to his belt. There had to be something, there had to, he was sure he had a red potion with him, untouched too. His fingers found what they were looking for, and Hyrule unclipped the red potion from his belt and pressed the hot glass to Wind's lips. With a slowly beating heart, Hyrule nursed the sailor back from the brink. Wind's eyes flickered open, hot and angry with the vivacity that comes with being recalled to life. 

"Ugh, this potion is disgusting!" Wind exclaimed. The sailor sat up in Hyrule's arms and looked curiously at his surroundings. 

Hyrule let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. The sun baked air around them folded in steaming sheets as Wind pulled Hyrule to his feet. 

"Are you boys alright?" Time exclaimed from across the beach. Hyrule squinted but saw little -- his vision had started to flicker and the only thing he could see were shifting, black silhouettes in the distance. 

"We're okay!" Wind shouted back. The sailor's gaze focused back on his companion, and his eyes darkened with concern. "Whoah, what happened to you, 'Rule? Why are my clothes red? This doesn't look like blood. Were we attacked?" 

"Attacked, yes." Hyrule croaked. "Monsters. From the water. Ambush." The traveler ran a hand down his face and punched his nose until his vision steadied. "Red tunic, shield spell. Not blood." A wet cough ripped itself from the bottom of Hyrule's lungs and Wind's eyes widened. 

"Are you alright? How did we, how did you get hurt so bad? Do you have potions? Where are the others? Wha--" Wind looked down at his clothes, "why are my clothes turning back to their normal color? Is the spell wearing off?" 

Hyrule burped, and small rivulets of blood and spit trickled down his lips and chin. He nodded, then shrugged, then shook his head and pointed across the beach. Wind's gaze traced Hyrule's outstretched arm and settled on the gaggle of heros on the other side of the beach. They looked battered and considerably bruised, but it seemed like they were all fine. Most likely they had been nursing their own wounds and taking special care to drink whatever potions and clean whatever cuts necessary. 

Nobody seemed to be in bad shape.

Except Hyrule. 

The figures in the distance seemed to notice Hyrule's uneasy tottering and swaying as the traveler and sailor stood up. They ran towards him, nothing more than thick, black smears on the horizon to Hyrule's half-closed eyes. The traveler faintly registered Four's cries of dismay, Twilight's anxious grunting, Warriors' smooth, insistent demands to stay awake, and the loud clattering of Time's armor. He felt Wind grab at his collar and support his slumping form. He felt Wild wrap a tourniquet around his bleeding arm and felt Time press a bottle to his lips. Hot, gritty, sugary milk poured into his mouth. It settled on the front of his teeth and made him feel even thirstier, but the feeling of his health and magic slowly replenishing itself far outweighed the discomfort. His legs shifted uneasily below him. 

"Hello, everyone!" A cheery, distance voice shouted. "We got all the--oh dear! Oh dear, Hyrule! Oh my goodness, Legend, hold this! Oh no, hold on!" 

The stained, wet sand underneath Hyrule's feet crumpled up in little hills as his boots dug in and he tottered forward. Wind shouted, Time gasped, Warriors squealed, and Sky caught the traveler in his arms. Fingers brushed through his hair and came away dark red. Hyrule hummed happily as the strong arms cradling him grew taught and held him close. 

He let his eyelids flutter downwards. 

How could he have let this happen? 

He'd been so oblivious, so happy to be back home that he'd forgotten how dangerous his world was. He'd forgotten the curse, the two sad princesses trying to stitch a grieving country back together, the trees that shuddered with malice and the beaches swollen with monsters. 

He'd forgotten, and he'd paid the price. 

Hyrule buried his face in Sky’s arms, blinking away the water building in his eyes.

They had come out of the sea. 

They had come out of the sea and bludgeoned Wind when his back was turned. They had swung and snickered and snarled at heros too surprised to fight back. 

They had come out of the sea for him, and he had been too dumbfounded to protect his brothers. 

Hyrule moaned. Sky held him closer, and the muscles in the Skyloftian's chest grew tight as he shooed the other heros away. The traveler felt somebody lower his body into the sand, and he sighed as the ache in his head faded. Wild urged him to open his eyes, but he ignored the suggestion. It hurt. It still hurt. It still hurt too much. 

He could feel Legend's stare on his back. The parts of Hyrule's face that weren't already stained with wet crimson obligingly turned scarlet. He curled into himself, focusing on the soft strain of his veins against the tourniquet. 

"What happened?" A familiar voice demanded. The complete lack of sarcasm or wit made each word sound chilling and alien. Hyrule inhaled sharply. 

"We were finishing up the raft when we were ambushed by some sort of sea monster. Or monsters. There wasn't really a chance to tell," Four explained.

"Don't know if they were even of the infected sort," Twilight mused. "We didn't even get a glimpse, like Four said. They got us when our backs were turned. We're really lucky to have had all our healing items and potions with us, even luckier that we had Hyrule." 

Legend snorted in confusion. Hyrule pressed the heels of his hands to his ears and hummed to himself. The noise slowly drowned itself out, but the conversation’s vibrations rumbled in the wet sand.

"His spellcasting saved everyone's lives," Four explained softly, "What was that first spell he did? Shield? It turned everyone's clothes red and halved the damage we took." 

Wild picked off from where Four left off. "And there was a second spell, I wasn't really sure what it was either, but it killed all the attackers instantly." 

Legend and Sky looked at each other in shock. They'd always known Hyrule was tough, they’d all figured that out the moment they'd met the small, humble traveler, but they'd never heard about him knowing such a powerful spell. 

"It took a lot out of him, though." Time said. He gestured to Hyrule's pale, blueish form. "Even the milk I had seems to be working very slowly. I'm sure he'll be alright, but..." 

The group anxiously stared at Hyrule and relaxed when the traveler fidgeted anxiously under Sky's soothing voice. At least he could move. That was always a good sign. 

Hyrule, hands still on his ears, cringed further. He had heard nothing of their conversation and had no intention of doing so either, it would have been easier to shoulder the guilt gnawing at his shoulders if he could construe his own narrative from the gaps in his recollection. Purposefully forgetting things had always been Hyrule's go-to coping mechanism, and it was working as reliably as it always did. 

"Are you sure he'll be okay?" Legend whispered. 

"He will," Time said with a smile. It was fake and forced, but there was a truth to his words. "The milk I gave him should slowly restore both his magic and his health, and the strip of cloth Wild put around his arm stopped what looks like the most prolific source of blood loss. Perhaps it would be best for us to all eat, Hyrule included, before we get going anywhere." 

Hyrule lifted his head with a start, knocking his chin into Sky's knees as he did so. 

"We need to get on the rafts," Hyrule said. "We can't eat here. We need -- we need to get out. We need to get out of here." Hyrule forced himself to his feet and pointed to the massive raft bobbing in the sunset waters. Red clouds hung on the horizon and the promise of stars twinkled in places where the golden light had dissolved. "Go over there. Eat over there. No monsters can get you when you're on the raft." 

Nobody moved. Hyrule let out another acidic, bloody burp and furrowed his eyebrows. 

**"Go. Now. All of you."**

The serrated edge in Hyrule’s voice cut deep, and the Links shuddered. Time made a sweeping motion with his arms and the heros were off. Water splashed and wood groaned as the Links seated themselves raft.

Hyrule lagged behind.

Happy noises floated on the nighttime wind as Legend passed out long awaited meals. Sky laughed when the veteran made a joke about how their quest for rope was clearly for nothing, and Wind made an obscene gesture that, even without context, made Warriors and Four laugh so hard they wheezed. 

Hyrule turned away from the sweet, domestic sight and focused on the red beach in front of him. 

A cool, steel courage built in his lungs. Aurora and Dawn -- his Zeldas, his strong, compassionate, iron-willed role models -- would never be terrorized by Ganon again. Not if he could help it. He absent-mindedly ran a hand through his hair and had to stifle a whine when he saw the blood on his fingertips. 

His hair, too?

Well. 

So be it. 

It wasn't the first time he had to resort to these kinds of measures.

Hyrule walked closer to the raft and raised his voice so it could be heard over the chattering waves. "Does anyone have a razor? A shaving razor?" His voice was much stronger now, clear and sad. It seemed whatever it was that Time had forced down his throat had worked. 

Pale faces stared back in confusion.

"I've got one," Warriors responded. "What's going on, traveler? Got the sudden urge to shave off some peach fuzz? I daresay you haven't much to work with." The group chuckled uneasily as Hyrule took the razor from Warriors' outstretched hand. 

"Not exactly. I'll join you guys in a minute. Just give me a second," Hyrule said.

"Wait -- Hyrule. Turn around," Warriors commanded. His voice was considerably less mirthful now. "Don't do anything with that somewhere we can't see. Understand?" 

Hyrule's face was blank. Sky shifted uncomfortably and looked up at the traveler. His soft voice carried shyly on the cold breeze. "Listen, 'Roolie,” the Skyloftian began, “it's totally normal for you to feel tired and a bit woozy right now, you've lost a lot of blood and--" 

"Yes," Hyrule replied. "I know. That's the problem." 

He turned away from the group and stood at the center of the beach. 

Spirals of crimson. 

Clumps of scarlet. 

Speckles of burgundy and flecks of black. 

All his. 

He sighed. 

With deft, determined fingers, Hyrule peeled off his bloody tunic and boots. He tossed the stained garments in front of him and pulled off his undershirt. The white skin of his chest strained tight over his ribs and collarbone. A small, red ocean pooled in a stomach wound. It was mostly healed, thanks to Time's magical potion, but it had left far too much of a mess.

Hyrule backtracked and soaked his undershirt in the high tide's creeping waters, ignoring his companions’ confused stares. The salty water stung his skin as he wiped off the stains from his mouth and neck and chest and legs, and he tried not to cringe at the pain or the whispering behind him. He walked back to the pile of crimson clothes and laid his sodden undershirt on top. The wind bit into his wet skin, and he thanked Hylia that his underwear was miraculously clean.

The razor grew cold in his hand. He tightened his grip around it to stop it from shaking.

The traveler squatted on his heels and held it to his forehead. 

He sighed again.

And then he cut. 

The razor bit and tugged and yanked and pulled. Disgusting clumps of matted, bloodstained hair fell on top of the clothes pile. His scalp became lighter. Fuzz and snapped fragments of hair grew heavy in the air around him. Hyrule carefully guided the razor in tight, small circles and ran his other hand through the uneven stubble. 

All gone. 

He was clean. 

Hyrule placed the razor on top of the pile of his hair and clothes and boots and took a few steps back.

It was sad. 

He really did like that tunic. 

"Hyrule. What. Are. You.  _ Doing _ ?" Legend's voice was hot and hateful in his ears. The traveler hadn't heard him approach. 

"Go to the raft," Hyrule responded.

"What are you doing? Are you insane? You're acting like you're possessed. What's gotten into you? What man in his right mind crouches in the middle of a beach to shave his head and strip?" 

Hyrule flinched. 

"Go to the raft." 

"Hyrule--" 

**"GO! NOW!"**

Legend's eyes widened and he took a few sharp, surprised steps backward. The red sand squelched under his boots. He looked helplessly at the other Links, who returned the veteran's confused grimace. Hyrule’s glare didn’t waver, and, to Legend’s surprise, the traveler followed behind him as he walked back to the raft. The crude, wooden ship bobbed downwards as the two heroes stepped on. 

They had only been paddling away from shore for a handful of seconds before Hyrule jumped off and sprinted back to shore. 

“Hyrule!” Wind and Sky cried in unison. 

“Get back. Stay back. Stay on the raft! Stay back!” Hyrule cried, voice uncharacteristically shrill. 

Hyrule’s eyes glistened and immediately looked away. The traveler stepped back onto shore, unsheathed his sword, and held it high above his head. Flames sparkled and roared to life around the slim silver blade. Hyrule cut through the air in one wide, sweeping arc and shot a phantom of the flaming sword towards the bloody pile of clothes and hair. Against all logic or science, the hungry, golden flames swelled and consumed the clothes, hair, and entire beach. 

The Links watched the flaming sand with silent reverence. The fire ravaged and consumed the entire beach, only leaving behind shards of glass and charred cloth when it finally succumbed to its own gluttony. 

Sand shifted underneath Hyrule’s feet and rubbed against his ankles. 

It smelled like ash and burnt memories. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Chapter 6 is already finished, so you shouldn’t have to wait too long for it. If you’ve got questions or just want to angrily scream at me for making Hyrule bald (a totally understandable sentiment), feel free to sally on over to my tumblr! I’m seekingseven.tumblr.com; I post lots of LU and ATLA stuff over there, and my asks are always open if you want to tell me something! Also I occasionally post snippets of the fics I'm working on or pictures of my outlines (my blog is literally a braincell sinkhole, make sure to wear a hazmat suit before getting too close), so that's cool I guess! :D 
> 
> And major shout out to everyone who left comments on the last chapters on the ones before: I'm so sorry that I was so late in responding to you all, but I've made it a resolution to be more punctual in the future! Love ya! <3


	6. The Disunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legend had always thought Four to be well-adjusted. 
> 
> He was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all are doing well. My apologies for the late upload; I wanted to get this up last night, but I hadn’t been able to go through my third and final round of editing with the piece, so I woke up early to do just that. I’m really excited to present this chapter to you all, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! There are a few things you should know before we begin, however:
> 
> 1- There is a reference to the title of one of my favorite LU fics in this chapter. If you find it, leave a comment down below and get a shoutout in the next one! And if you don’t know what it is, feel free to also leave a comment so I can bless you with the link to one of the loveliest Hyrule-angst fics I’ve ever read. :D 
> 
> 2- This chapter is intense, and I’ve picked the RecommendedVibe to reflect that. There are actually three recommended songs for this chapter, and, in order, they are: Cosmos (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8f8MqYYk_yQ), Minish Cap “Elemental Sanctuary” Orchestral Remix (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6LrdPb0hS4), and The Minish Cap: Vaati’s Wrath Orchestral Arrangement (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4xixevwOfk). You can start ‘Cosmos’ right from the start, as it’s the opening vibe, but the other two will come in at specific times. The notation is as follows.   
>  [*-1] is my recommendation to stop the first song, Cosmos. [*2] is my recommendation to start the second song, Minish Cap Elemental Sanctuary, and [*-2] my recommendation to stop it. [*3] would be my recommendation to start Vaati’s Wrath, which carries on until the end of the fic. I know it’s a lot of work just to read some fanfiction, and even though it’s a completely optional experience, I highly recommend that you listen to the tracks! I promise that they add a lot to the story. 
> 
> Alright, story time!

[*1: Start ‘Cosmos’]

Legend was bored. 

Black water lapped at the raft’s edge and darkened the pale wood. He shirked away from it, blank eyes fixed on the liquid moonlight puddling on the horizon. The skin of his cheeks was dry and chapped from the ocean spray, and his nose wrinkled from the lingering smell of meat and fish. They had all eaten more than three hours ago, but the stench of seafood had a penchant for persisting where it wasn’t wanted. 

Guilt pricked at the back of his throat as Legend’s focus drifted to the barely-awake Hyrule. The silhouette of the traveler’s freshly shaven head stuck out like a black thumb against the white disk of the moon, and Legend could almost hear Hyrule’s stomach rumbling. Like the fantastic and considerate friend he always was, Legend had completely forgotten to buy lunch for Hyrule back in Mido Town. Of course the traveler had insisted that he was fine and that it wasn’t a problem and that no, really, he was used to eating scraps or nothing at all. Not like that stopped all the other Links from serendipitously filling up on half the usual portion and casually pushing the leftovers towards Hyrule, and not like that made Legend feel any better about himself. 

The veteran blinked quickly. No need to brood over the subject. It was in the past, and Hyrule said he had forgiven him. Legend idly picked at the skin of his knuckles until his guilt was replaced by an all-too familiar boredom. He knew that he wasn’t going to fall asleep on this Goddess-forsaken raft -- it was one thing to be comfortable traveling on it and another thing entirely to be comfortable  _ sleeping  _ on it. His fingers fiddled with the collar of his shirt and the skin of his nose and the small, tin scroll case clipped to his belt. Almost on their own accord, his fingers popped open the case, unfurled the yellowed scroll, and smoothed the crumpled edges. 

His eyelashes grazed the edges of his brow bone as his eyes widened. Even though he already knew the spell was written in “his” Hylian, there was something about seeing the familiar, calligraphic strokes pressed into the paper. His lips fluttered as his eyes soaked in the spell, echoing silent words he’d never spoken before. 

_ Maybe…?  _

Would it be a good idea to pull a stunt like this, now, of all times? 

_ Well it wasn’t really a bad idea. He wasn’t hurting anyone. Nobody would know. There was no way he’d be caught.  _

Perhaps nobody would know, but that still didn’t make it right. Was this sort of magic something he should even be playing with? Ignorance is bliss.

_ Ignorance is a curse. Hylia wouldn’t have dropped these artifacts and their fusion spells into his hands if he didn’t want him to do something with them -- it wasn’t just a pleasant coincidence, it was divine intervention. Ignoring the Goddess' call, no, her  _ command... _ that would be a moral trespass.  _

Legend’s mental chatter tapered off in the way unfruitful, unconvincing arguments often did. He pulled the Lens of Truth and Magic Mirror out of his bag, cunning eyes flickering over the sleeping, slumbering forms of all the other Links and Hyrule’s silhouette, perched on the opposite end of the raft. The coast was clear. He scooted over to the edge of the raft. 

He promised himself that this would be the last time he ever used the mirror. Just tonight -- only tonight -- and then he would leave the artifact alone forever. 

His conscience was quelled by the iron conviction around his words. 

The spell popped easily off his lips, and Legend plunged the artifacts into the inky waters before the magical light show attracted any attention. The waters around the artifacts grew white and golden and shot out in sharp, scalene triangles into the dark waters. Inky impressions of fish and other, more sinister-looking marine creatures darted in and out of the beams of light, glassy eyes glaring incredulously at the Hylian staring down at them. The water bubbled and cooled, and the adrenaline in Legend’s veins slowly faded. He kept the two artifacts pressed together until the light glimmered and died. 

“Legend,” Hyrule murmured from the other side of the raft, “is everything alright?” 

“Mmmhmmmm,” Legend replied, his voice much calmer than he felt. After ensuring that Hyrule wasn’t looking at him, Legend pulled the overlaid artifacts out of the water and hid them under his bag. “How about yourself? You okay? That show earlier was...a little concerning.” His soul felt dirty, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. 

“I’m fine. I’ve done this before. The whole shaving thing. Not with an audience, of course, but I’ve done it before.” 

“Want to explain why? What’s all the fuss for? It’s just a little blood.” 

“That’s the problem. Ganon’s army found this ancient spell that has the ability to revive him. They have all the ingredients they need for the spell, except one.” 

“And what’s that? Your  _ blood?  _ Please. Sounds like something out of a bad fairytale,” Legend quipped, smiling tactlessly at his own prickliness. 

“Well, yeah, actually. ‘The blood of the hero,’ that’s what the monster’s always say when they’re trying to kill me. ‘OoooOOoooh, we need the blood of the hero!’” Hyrule’s voice had taken on a childish, teasing tone that Legend saw straight through. The traveler was trying to lighten the mood to ease the awkwardness of Legend’s social faux-pas, and Legend found himself annoyed for a reason he couldn’t quite place. 

“No need to make light of a situation that’s probably giving you hell. I guess I owe you an apology,” Legend muttered. Hyrule’s eyes widened in surprise, but his eyebrows scrunched in resignation when the aforementioned apology didn’t come. 

“Yeah, well, you know,” Hyrule began, fishing idly for words, “it’s not a big deal. Really.” 

“Must be scary to go around with a metaphorical bounty on your head,” Legend said. 

Hyrule sighed. “I killed Ganon when I was twelve. I can do it again. I’m not afraid of him.” 

“Sure,” Legend said, “that’s why you burned all your bloody clothes and shaved your head instead of just washing everything.” His hands fidgeted idly in his laps and the veteran found his mind wandering back to the mirror. Maybe he should check on it, it might have fused during the conversation’s lull. 

“Blood in the water is still blood. I don’t know how much they need to revive him, but I’m not taking any chances. I don’t want my Hyrule, my  _ people  _ to ever live under the threat of Ganon again.” Hyrule sucked in the cold air and fiddled with the shirt Wild had lended to him. “If Hylia chose me to be the protector of this world, to be its hero, I’ll be exactly that as long as my heart still beats.” 

“Really?” Legend purred absent-mindedly. He held the fused mirror in his hands with confident, brazen fingers, taking care to caress it in a pool of shadow just out of Hyrule’s eyesight. The two artifacts had fused much faster than last time, he noted eagerly. Hyrule kept talking, saying something about honor and destiny and demons and goddesses as Legend’s eyes remained fixed on the golden glass. It was as beautiful and hypnotic as ever, and Legend trailed a finger around the metal rim in shy greeting. It felt almost like seeing an old friend again.

“Do you know what I mean, Legend?” Hyrule finally concluded.

“Absolutely,” the veteran muttered, “I understood every word.” 

Hyrule sighed and the muscles under his shirt untangled. 

“Thanks it -- well -- it means a lot.” 

Legend nodded, more in respect to the mirror than acknowledgement of what Hryule had just said. “How about you get some rest, yeah? I don’t think the raft is going to capsize if you fall asleep for a few minutes,” Legend heard himself say. “I’ll be here to pick up your slack.” 

His fingers tapped idly on the fused mirror’s handle as Hyrule mulled the proposition over. Impatience fizzled underneath Legend’s skin. 

He wasn’t keen on having an audience when he got serious with the mirror. 

“Fine. Promise to wake me up if anything goes wrong?” Hyrule said.

“Of course,” Legend said, his tone a little more excitable than he’d intended. “You know you can trust me,” he said. 

Hyrule nodded in happy agreement as he passed the raft paddle off to Legend before curling up next to Warriors. Hardly five minutes had passed before Hyrule’s hushed snores joined those of the others. Legend’s heart beat faster and a wild, crazy grin pulled at his lips. 

The mirror’s glass was golden and quiet. The veteran panned it over Twilight and Warriors’ sleeping forms only for the artifact to remain unresponsive. Hyrule and Time remained of no interest to the mirror. Legend crossed his arms and pinched the artifact between his fingers, pushing Four’s head off his knee with his unoccupied hand. He idly kneaded the cramping muscles in his legs but abruptly stopped when the mirror shivered. The flesh underneath his cheekbones and neck grew cold with anticipation. 

The mirror's glass had turned black. 

Four. 

The mirror had chosen Four. 

Only the moonlight-edged angles of Legend’s face were reflected in the mirror’s pitch-black glass. He nodded his head before the mirror could ask its question. 

His consciousness crumpled and folded before his chin could even bob back upwards. The breath in his lungs left with a hiss, and he watched from a distance as his body collapsed over Four’s and disappeared altogether. As his body was torn into a thousand pieces and reformed in a dimension that didn’t exist, Legend repeated his vow. 

_ Last time, this is the last time, last time, this is the last time…  _

[*-1] [*2]

He said it faster and faster as he fell through the space between worlds, faster and faster until it was only a slush of sounds and syllables, faster and faster until his heart no longer felt guilty. The darkness around him slowly turned green and, as his vision crystallized and he flexed bare toes he didn’t know could still register sensation, he realized the ground beneath him was solid dirt. Tall, green, barkless trees burst from the earth and fluttered in the breeze, and a small mountain that resembled an acorn in more ways than one sat to his left. Legend placed a curious hand on the tree in front of him, eyebrows cinching when he took in the slippery, waxy texture. This wasn’t a tree, it was...a really big blade of grass? 

With this new perspective in mind, Legend took in his surroundings with wide eyes and baited breath. The entire world had grown fourfold in size and magnificence, and Legend’s lips flickered into a smile when a horse-sized hummingbird flitted overhead. 

Four’s mind was a wonderful, mystical place. 

Cheerful, curious chimes echoed in the distance, layered by the silvery sound of raindrops and the motherly twinkle of harp strings. Legend found himself humming along as he meandered through Four’s mind, smiling at the Hylian-sized tulips and house-sized mushrooms he passed by. His ears were still saturated by the seductive, elemental hum of far-off music, and it took him a few seconds to register the whispering voices around him. 

Legend’s face hardened and he took a few steps back, hands reaching for a weapon he didn’t have. At a loss for a weapon, he opted to use the next best thing; his fists. His legs slid backwards and forwards and his hands clenched in front of his face. He was prepared for any enemy irregardless of how large and brawny they had become in Four’s strange mind. 

What he wasn’t prepared for was a host of small mice-people to creep out of the grass and onto the path Legend stood on. Their eyes glinted with the same disgust and mistrust that must have shown in his own, and Legend’s fists tightened. He wasn’t going to throw the first punch but, by Hylia, if those things thought to attack him, he would be throwing the last one. 

“He was never a hero,” one of the mouse-people chirped. 

“He lied to us,” another one whispered. 

Legend’s fists dropped to his sides and the hairs of his neck pricked up in confusion.

“He said he was strong, but he’s weak,” another said. 

“His soul is broken.” 

“He can’t fix it.”

“He won’t fix it.” 

“He likes the feeling of broken things.”

“He liked the feeling of being split in four.” 

“It isn’t safe. It isn’t right.” 

The voices grew louder. Legend’s heart beat faster and his muscles forgot how to move.

“He lied to us.” 

“He lied to you, too.” 

Legend’s voice grew bitter and he found a retort, a wordless, icy, acidic retort, building at the back of his throat. 

“Who are you talking about?” 

His voice didn’t sound like his own. 

The mice-people tittered among themselves. 

“The liar.”

“You know him.”

“The Hero of the Four Sword is what he calls himself. We know better.”

“He’s no hero.” 

Legend’s confusion hardened into disgust. 

“No, Four didn’t lie to  _ anyone,”  _ he heard himself hiss. “If he’s got secrets, then that’s fine. We all do. He doesn’t need to spill his history and sad life story just for me to respect him. I know who he is; he’s a kind-hearted hero that will do anything for his people.” 

The mice-people looked at him sadly. 

“He doesn’t have secrets.” 

“He only has lies.” 

“You don’t know who he is.”

“We know who he is.” 

“He’s nothing more than a false hero.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and an army of little heads nodded in agreement.

“He’s disgusting.” 

Legend’s lungs swelled with another bitter remark before the mice-people flickered and disappeared. The world seized up, flashing green, then black, then grey and purple, before finally settling on blue. His eyes, burning from the onslaught of colors and light, opened up slowly and cautiously. 

A pan flute twittered in the background. The harp grew quiet and content, and the cyan stone underneath Legend’s feet was itchy with coolness. Light streamed in through high-arched windows and took on a color of their own as they passed through the colored glass. Legend’s heartbeat slowed. Spots of pastel pink and purple and orange and blue light dappled the floor and reflected off the bright blue stone. His eyes drifted to the fine engravings of goddesses and saints and centaurs and heroes encircling a raised platform to the four pillars that sat at squarish attention around it. From his own experience during his adventuring, pillars typically had a corresponding magical macguffin they were supposed to parade, and the fact that said magical macguffins were absent was slightly concerning. His eyes finally fixated on the glimmering sword nestled in the middle of the sanctuary. 

Legend crept forward, eyes dark with curiosity. He reached out a hand to grab the sword, expecting the unexpected, and was somehow still surprised when the sword vanished into smoke. With exasperated resignation, Legend took a few steps backward. He waved a hand to dispel the smoke as his thoughts grew bitter. It seems like Four’s mind didn’t know what to show him and what not to show him, as if it was divided in some terribly poetic way that was just so very  _ Four-- _

Four. 

There he was. 

Four’s ghost, which hovered a few inches above the pedestal where the sword once sat, back turned to Legend and shoulders hunched in a way that was mildly disturbing, just like everything else in this place. Legend’s eyes greedily scanned the sanctuary for some indication of what he should do, some hint, some trick, some divine whisper or quiet nudge in the right direction. His mind and eyes came back with nothing, so he did the next most natural thing. 

He reached out. 

His fingers poised themselves to cup Four’s small shoulder, but instead phased right through. Legend’s eyebrows first crunched together in frustration, then flickered upward in surprise as a furious, burning sensation ripped through his body. He tried to pull his hand back and failed to hold back a frustrated scream. 

His fingers were stuck in Ghost Four’s shoulder. 

What was  _ wrong  _ with this place? 

Legend yanked his hand backwards, harder than before. 

Four’s ghost whimpered. Legend cringed.

[*-2][*3]

“Four, I’m sorry---” he heard himself stammer. The words grew bitter in his mouth when he realized who he was talking to, and grew ashy when the unmistakable heartbeat of dark magic rippled through the floor. The gentle whispers of the pan flute turned into a demonic brass swell and the harp’s humming turned into the pleading of a panicked violin. The blood in Legend’s ears chastised him for his stupidity as the air around the four pillars grew black and congealed together in humanoid shapes. A single, ill-timed blink blinded him from the transfiguration happening around him, and Legend opened his eyes to see four distinctly-colored impressions of Four standing on each pillar, each staring blankly at him. 

The fingers stuck in Ghost Four’s shoulder began to bleed. 

The four Four’s: one red, one purple, one blue, one green, said nothing. Their eyes, white and empty, bored into Legend’s chest and back. The veteran tried to suppress a shiver. His body trembled under the strain of adrenaline and fear nonetheless, and he forced himself to prepare for whatever was going to happen next. 

It took him approximately three seconds to realize there was no way he could have prepared himself for what was going to happen next. 

All at once, each of the four Four’s took a step, sliding backwards in the air above their pillars. Four’s ghost let out a hushed sob as its legs and arms were pulled in opposite directions. Hairline fractures spiderwebbed through the ghost. Legend hissed when his eyes finally registered the smoky chains that connected each of Ghost Four’s limbs to a corresponding one on each of the four Four’s. Each step taken by the ghostly quartet pulled the ghost in the middle a little farther apart. 

The ominous hiss of an organ hung heavy in the air as the four Four’s took another step backwards. Fine, white cracks spread around Ghost Four’s body. 

Legend would almost have preferred it if Ghost Four -- the real one, the one in the middle,  _ that had to be the real one, right? _ \-- had screamed or cried or made some acknowledgement of the pain he was in. The hushed, resigned whimpers coming from his mouth were almost worse. It was almost as if Four, no,  _ Ghost Four,  _ had given up on trying to reconcile himself with the ghosts floating around him, as if he had given into being torn apart by different versions of himself.

The four Four’s pulled backwards. 

The chains creaked. 

Ghost Four sighed. White light oozed from the cracks in his back. 

Again. 

And again. 

And again.

Legend wanted to throw up. 

The cracks grew larger. White light pooled on the floor and in the fine grooves in Legend’s fingers and burned through the stone beneath. The four Four’s said nothing, eyes as blank and quiet and cool as they were from the beginning. Legend’s heart contracted harshly as he watched the thoughtless execution in front of him. The weight of his helplessness chafed against his heart. He could see the bone of the fingers still stuck in Four’s shoulder, but he didn’t care anymore. 

His other arm wrapped around Four’s torso in a mindless, desperate bid to keep his friend from splitting apart. Icy, fiery pain tore through the muscles in his body and viciously dug into the soft skin of his legs and chest, but he didn’t care. More of Four’s white, quiet tears leaked out from the cracks in his back as the four Four’s took one final step backwards. 

It smelled like fire and earth and wind and water.

Ghost Four said nothing as he vanished out of existence, so Legend cried for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! If you have any thoughts, comments, or questions, let me know! Sometimes Ao3 doesn't send me the alerts, so I end up responding really late, but I respond to each and every comment I get, rain or shine! 
> 
> I hope you all have a great day (or, at least one better than Four and Legend's). Take care of yourselves and stay safe!


	7. The Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legend suffers alone while Hyrule finds out there is so much more to Twilight than he had ever thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Sorry for the late update. I had so many ideas rolling around in my head and I wanted to find a way to express them all properly, and this chapter did NOT want to be written. But, here it is! Some housekeeping things before we get started. 
> 
> 1) The vibe for this chapter is Rise (Snowfall Remix) by Tony Anderson. This chapter isn’t very intense, so I thought a calm, ambient track should do the trick. 
> 
> 2) Shoutout to LettersByTheLake, Genderfluid_Puddle_Of_Soup, SanaLamaSamaha, and StarryDewDrops for catching the reference in the last chapter! Indeed, Legend’s small mental note was a reference to Usagisama68's incredible Hyrule angst fic, “Ignorance Is a Curse.” If you happen to like this fic bur haven't read Ignorance is a Curse, do yourself a favor and sally on over there. It's a beautifully written story written by someone with an even more beautiful heart!
> 
> 3) Happy (late) birthday, Pud! Consider this a late birthday present from me 🎂 🎁 
> 
> Alright, let's get to it!

Breakfast had been an incredibly awkward affair.

It started when Hyrule woke up and realized Legend hadn't kept his end of the bargain. The veteran had fallen asleep on top of Four during the night, and there had been no one to wake the group when they had reached East Hyrule. The raft had beached itself on a sandbar hours ago; it had been the sizzling shards of afternoon sunlight that woke them up, not the usual predawn call of the last watchman. Sunburned and crusted with salt, the heroes had peeled themselves off the raft and made a makeshift camp underneath a nearby overhang of rock. Nobody had initially been in the mood to talk as they sat stiffly around the smoldering campfire. Still, when Hyrule sat next to Legend with his freshly-shaven head on full display, the other Links quietly remembered the concerns they had fallen asleep with.

Of course, nobody directly addressed Hyrule's present haircut or the frightening scene that had taken place the night before. Breakfast carried on in silence, with the usual conversation starters -- Legend and Wind -- engrossed in their own thoughts. The sailor was too preoccupied with picking at his sunburns to chat, and Legend's eyes were fixated on the air behind Four.

Hyrule continued to pretend nothing had changed.

It was only when breakfast had passed without a single spoken word that Wind finally broke the tension.

"Hyrule, what happened yesterday?"

The other Links, unsurprised by Wind's brazenness but taken aback by the question itself, watched the scene unfold with veiled curiosity. Warriors burnished his pauldron a little slower. Sky stopped whittling a stray block of wood he'd found. The animated conversation about sword care techniques Wild and Four had been entertaining tapered off, and the sound of Time and Twilight's soft muttering dissipated in the air.

Hyrule looked up with a wooden smile.

"Well, we made a raft, and then we got on it, and we arrived safely in East Hyrule." The traveler smiled genially at Wind and continued picking at the peeling skin of his nose. "You really should know this, Wind."

The sailor remained undaunted.

"Yeah, I already know about that. I'm talking about what happened on the beach yesterday."

Hyrule pretended to act confused. Wind's eyebrows furrowed.

"There isn't a point in pretending like you don't know what Wind's talking about," Warriors supplied, his fingers examining the grooves of his pauldron for dirt. His eyes drifted away from the polishing materials in front of him and fastened on Hyrule. There was something eerily insistent in his gaze that the traveler had before only attributed to Legend. "We need to make sure that you're alright. If yesterday night was...an episode, of some sort, we need to know. We can't help if we don't know what's going on."

The stinging authority in Warriors' words only piqued the curiosity of the others even further. Hyrule coughed, absentmindedly ran a hand down the stubble of his head, and looked around for any sort of deliverance. 

He knew this was coming. He'd realized and accepted that risk when he'd burned the beach in front of eight pairs of confused, staring eyes. But… 

Hyrule's eyes drifted to the strip of sand along the beach's shore. A thick sea of grass roiled back and forth under the stifling afternoon breeze, and the shadow of the Southern Forest was a smear on the horizon. Birds sang in the air, and the sweet humming of fairies floated in from the east. He didn't even need to turn around to see the brown, weathered faces of the mountains behind him; the stone-faced guardians of East Hyrule had a presence that thrummed in the red dirt beneath him.

Something deep in his heart twinged. 

This was  _ his  _ Hyrule. The Hyrule he had fought for. The Hyrule he had bled for. The Hyrule he loved and would love no matter how many demons burst from the forests and how many nightmares lurked in the sea. 

They wouldn't understand. If he explained the curse to the other heroes, they wouldn't be able to see what he saw anymore. They would coddle him. They would stare at the ground and sky with suspicion. Not with awe. Not with amazement. Not with the same fascination they shared on the night they arrived.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea to tell the veteran about the curse. After all, more than any of the rest, Hyrule wanted Legend to--

"Well? What's the story?" 

Wind's voice cut through Hyrule's thoughts. The traveler's jaw worked, and his mind spun, trying to find a vague way to explain what had happened while skirting around the situation. His eyes landed on Legend, the only one of the heroes that hadn't even looked up from whatever he was doing since the conversation began. There was something empty and blank in the veteran's eyes as he wrapped thick bandages around the tip of his fingers. Hyrule didn't remember how or when Legend had hurt his hand, but he did remember their conversation last night, and he did know that Legend was far more eloquent than he was, and he did know the veteran was a master of verbal evasion.

"Legend, can you tell them?" Hyrule finally said.

The veteran looked up with a start. His eyes seemed to look right through Hyrule, and his pupils were only pinpricks in his eyes despite the shade he sat in. Purple eye bags were smeared under his sockets, and his focus flickered sporadically from the sand in front of him to the air behind Four.

Hyrule repeated his question. When it remained unanswered, Twilight gave the veteran a soft tap on the shoulder. With a startle and a snort, Legend was broken out of his reverie, and his eyes settled darkly on Hyrule's. A brackish irritation flickered around the blue of his irises.

"Tell them what?" Legend spat. The bandages at the tips of his fingers had already begun to turn red.

Hyrule's eyes widened. Legend's stare hardened. The skin of the traveler's cheeks flared red, and his ears stuck out at either side of his head in embarrassment. 

"I-I thought I told you," Hyrule whispered, more to himself than to the veteran.

"Told me about what?"

"About...about what happened yesterday. We were on the raft, and we were talking, and I told you...I told you about  _ everything.  _ I just, I just thought you would be able to explain it better than me. _ " _

A ripple of what could either be remembrance or panic tore across the surface of Legend's face. The veteran broke eye contact and returned his attention to the bandages on his fingers, fiddling with the linen until it looked like he finally decided what to say. He cleared his voice. Hyrule prepared himself for the oncoming speech.

"Hyrule is fine. Don't worry about him."

Eight pairs of eyebrows darted upwards. Seven pairs of eyes flickered suspiciously between Legend and Hyrule, and the traveler chafed under the unbelieving stares.

"Well, you heard him," Hyrule finally said, feeling far less confident than he sounded. "From the veteran himself."

The silence grew thicker. Legend's eyes were focused on Four once again, almost as if he was searching for something.

"Why would he lie to you guys?" Hyrule continued. "He cares about my health just as much as everyone else here, and he has nothing to gain by not telling the truth. I'm fine. We're both fine."

Legend nodded, eyes still focused on something far away, while the other heroes mediated on Hyrule's logic. They seemed to accept it with suspicious reluctance, and only Twilight's face remained hard and unconvinced. 

"I don't know about that," the rancher finally said.

Hyrule didn't know it was possible for the group to become even quieter. 

"Exactly what are you implying?" Legend snapped, his pupils growing even smaller than before. There was a distressed sheen of sweat on his face, and his cheekbones stuck out strangely against his skin. 

The bandages on the tips of his fingers had already been soaked through. 

"Perhaps I worded that poorly," Twilight said, pinching his nose between his forefingers. "I was talking about the last thing Hyrule said. All I meant to say is that neither of you guys look like you're very well put together, at least at the moment." Legend sputtered, and Hyrule's ears flickered downwards in poorly-concealed embarrassment. 

"I'm just  _ fine.  _ Actually, I think I'm the 'most well put together' person  _ here,"  _ Legend snarled. His words dripped with something that sounded like a cross between grief and terror. Four flinched for a reason Hyrule didn't understand. 

"Okay, calm down," Twilight said, making a waving gesture with his hands to placate Legend from afar. "It smells like secrets in here. And that's fine. If you say that Hyrule is alright, then we believe you. But perhaps we should stay here until you guys start to feel a little better. It's not a good idea to be traveling in the middle of the day."

The group exploded in a mix of agreement, protests, and vague grumbling. Time crossed his arms and waited for the chaos to fade on its own before he spoke. 

"I think we can all agree that there is wisdom in Twilight's words. Traveling in such heat, especially when not all of us are feeling well, is a direct request to the heavens for disaster."

"But what about Darunia Town?" Hyrule said. "The monsters? We can't leave them like that. There's only one knight in the entire town, and if the attacks are really by infected monsters, we can't sit here and simply rest." 

Time closed his other eye and cupped his thumb and forefinger around his chin. The other Links muttered among themselves as the Old Man thought, offering their own half-hearted attempts at a solution. 

"I understand your concern," Time began, trying not to let his heart twinge when he watched Hyrule visibly deflate. "However, I want you to imagine, out loud, if you may, what would happen if we left now, with two heroes in a compromised state and a few others with rather concerning sunburns." 

Murmurs ran through the assemblage of heroes. 

"We'd probably arrive there too tired--and possibly injured--to help as well as we could," Wild mused aloud.

"Our sunburns would get even worse," Sky said. 

"The group won't be able to communicate very well if our attention is split between supervising those who are hurt and keeping an eye on the terrain," Four added.

Time and Twilight nodded in agreement as the facts were laid out in front of Hyrule. The traveler was about to protest and insist once again that he was feeling just fine and that the queasy look in Legend's eyes might have only been from the raft, but a sudden sneeze cut him off. 

Wild grinned as if he had found the missing piece of an elaborate puzzle. "Hyrule's sick!"

"I'm not--" 

"Yes, you are. I knew it. That tunic wasn't thick enough." The smile slipped off Wild's face. "I should have given you something a little warmer." 

"No, no, it's not your fault. Really, I mean it! It's probably just the pollen in the air. I, uh, I always get a little sick around this time of year."

Wild didn't look convinced. He stared at the glowing shards of wood slumbering in the firepit before turning back to Hyrule.

"Ugh, I'm sorry, Hyrule," he said as he fiddled with his Sheikah Slate. A lump of clothes and a cluster of bananas appeared in a cloud of blue Sheikah technology. "Eat one of these," Wild explained as he handed Hyrule a banana, "and put on these. It's my Snowquill Set, it should keep you warm."

The conversation around them swelled as the finality that they wouldn't be going anywhere that day finally hit. Hyrule pulled on the fluffy pants and padded shirt Wild had handed him, smiling at the warmth bundled in the fabric. 

The group began to dissipate as Hyrule genially munched on his banana and sneezed intermittently. Sky announced he was going to watch the birds overhead, as Warriors, Wild, and Wind challenged each other to a footrace. Time, intrigued, sauntered over to the far side of the clearing and declared himself as both finish line and referee. Four had left his sword and boots by the fire and wandered off barefoot, eyes searching for bugs or flowers or other small treasures hidden in the tall grass. Only Hyrule, Legend, and Twilight remained under the overhang.

"Are you feeling alright?" Twilight asked, his face a mixture of concern and exhaustion as he took a seat next to Hyrule. The traveler nodded, gesturing to the nearly finished banana in his hand and patting the plush Rito-down shirt he wore. 

Legend sat in the corner of the overhang farthest from them, fiddling with something in his hands. His voice was inaudible, but his ragged breathing echoed off the stone walls. 

"Is  _ he _ alright?" Twilight asked, jerking his chin in Legend's direction. 

"He looked fine yesterday night," Hyrule whispered. The back of his head grew heavy, and he swallowed back a cough. "I don't know what happened when he fell asleep. It looks like a nightmare, perhaps." 

"A nightmare about Four, maybe," Twilight joked, gesturing with a thumb at the half-rabid way Legend was staring at the smithy's sword. "How the little one could have scared him so bad, I have no idea." 

Hyrule took another bite of his banana to stifle his uneasy laughter. The rancher looked on, his expression fading from vaguely mirthful to unreadable. 

Time shouted something in the distance, and both Wind and Warriors howled in frustration. Even though the footrace had taken place out of Hyrule's line of sight, it was probably safe to assume that Wild had won. Twilight chortled to himself as Hyrule rubbed a sore patch at the back of his neck. 

"You know, I wanted to ask you something," Twilight finally said. 

Hyrule's eyelids and eyebrows lowered subconsciously, and he crossed his arms without realizing it. 

"If it's about yesterday, the only thing I'm going to tell you is that Legend was right." 

"No, that's not it. I was just wondering," the rancher reached out a hand towards Hyrule, and the traveler instinctively flinched away. 

"Oh, I--" Hyrule let out a sound that was a cross between a cough and a mumbled 'sorry.' "Oops. Habit, I guess." 

Twilight's eyes grew sadder, and he folded his vagrant hands back in his lap. 

"No need to apologize. I just wanted to ask, how do you feel about your haircut?" The rancher's voice was smooth and careful. Hyrule tried not to linger on how comforting it was for too long. 

"Oh, my hair?" Hyrule's hands instinctively went to his head and grazed the awkward stubble jutting out of his scalp. "Oh. My hair. Yes. I've cut my hair before, you know. No big deal."

"We've all cut our hair at least once or twice, well, except maybe for Wild." 

This time, Hyrule's laugh was genuine. The aftertaste of banana hung in the back of his throat as he quietly agreed with Twilight. 

"But what I meant to ask was how you  _ feel  _ about it. I'm not going to keep pressing you about what happened last night if you don't want to share, but I can see that whatever triggered the...situation, yesterday, wasn't a happy thing." 

Hyrule sighed. 

Twilight waited. 

The sky grew a little darker as the minutes trickled by. 

"You know," Hyrule finally said, "the Princess always used to tell me I had lovely hair." 

"Which one?" Twilight said with a smile.

"Oh, uh, Dawn. She's the princess. Aurora is the queen." Hyrule's eyes focused on something far away as he continued. "You know, I don't see her--Dawn, I mean--very often, but when I do, she always looks at my hair and tells me how lovely it is. She said that if I ever grew it out, she wanted me to come to the castle right away so she could braid it. I…" 

Hyrule let his words fade as he exhaled and leaned back on the stone wall. His forehead burned. Twilight placed a hand on his shoulder and tilted his head forward to make eye contact with Hyrule. 

"Are you disappointed?" he asked, voice somehow growing even softer than before. A mockingbird twittered outside, and the faint laughter of the others carried on the breeze. Hyrule forced himself not to turn away. 

"I'm trying not to be. These things happen, and my hair will come back. Everything will be okay. Everything always ends up okay, here." 

Twilight's face softened. Hyrule was about to smile back before he let out another frighteningly powerful sneeze. 

"Maybe you shouldn't sit so close to me," the traveler said, at last, smiling as he wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Twilight looked like he wanted to argue, but conceded and stood up.

"I'm not worried about getting sick, but I think you might need to take a nap. It'll do you some good, and we can't have our tour guide sneezing and wheezing the whole way to Darunia Town, now can we?" 

Hyrule grinned. Twilight winked. 

"I'm going to step outside for a little bit and maybe run a few laps with the guys," the rancher continued. "Promise me you'll try and sleep while I'm gone?" 

"No promises," Hyrule said, but he already felt his eyelids slipping downwards. Twilight gave another one of his careful, sad smiles, and slipped out from under the overhang of rock. 

It really was a lovely day outside. 

A sudden longing to run and explore stirred in his heart, but Hyrule crushed it with practiced expertise. He had obligations. He had to rest. Just like Twilight said, the group depended on him to be alert and healthy for the trek that night. 

Hyrule laid on his side and stared at the ash in the firepit. The warmth of the late afternoon swaddled him like a blanket, and he felt his mind slowly begin to wander. It would be a firefly night, he was sure, the air itself bespoke to oncoming humidity and silence that seemed to draw the bugs out. He had the stars, he had fireflies, and he had his brothers. Hyrule smiled to himself. 

He felt his awareness slipping away before he caught a glimpse of Legend in the corner of his eye and nearly jolted out of his skin. The traveler propped himself up on his elbows and opened his mouth to speak, promptly shutting it when Legend moaned something unintelligible and pressed his forehead to the wall. Strips of bloodied linen stood at sodden attention around the veteran; the bandages had been on his fingers for less than an hour, but they had already been discarded around him like strings of red bone. 

"Legend," Hyrule said, "are you alright?" 

"I'm fine. I'm great, actually." 

There was nothing off or uneven about Legend's tone. There was no hitch in his breath to suggest he had been crying or stuttering in his words to indicate unease. Hyrule was about to prod him for more information when the veteran stood up on shaky legs and shambled over to his side. The traveler sat up and scooted over. 

"Are you sure you're alright? You don't look too good. Do you need a potion? I can ask Wild to get a banana, if you would like." The platitudes and suggestions rolled off Hyrule's tongue as Legend took a seat next to him. 

"Four is sick," Legend suddenly said. 

Hyrule's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. 

"Uh, I don't think so. He looks fine to me," the traveler supplied. "Hah, if anyone's sick, it's definitely you and m--" 

"Do you know what Four's favorite kind of flower is?" 

"What?"

"Flower. Favorite kind of flower." 

"Um, I'm not sure? I've never had a chance to talk to him about that. Maybe because I never asked?" 

Legend groaned and buried his face in his hands. Smears of red were left in the wake of where his unbandaged fingertips brushed his forehead. Hyrule's eyes widened. He placed a hand on Legend's shoulder and smiled as softly as he could. 

"Would you like me to ask him for you?" 

The veteran recoiled from Hyrule's touch and shook his head. 

"No. No, no, no. I have to fix this by myself." 

"Huh?" 

Without another word, Legend stood up and walked out from under the overhang. Hyrule watched in silence. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hyrule couldn't believe they arrived in Darunia Town before sunrise. When he'd sat down to calculate the trip's length and how many hours it would take to trek through the underground labyrinth under the Northern Mountains, he had never once stopped to consider that things had changed while he had been gone. 

Oh, how things  _ changed _ . 

Darunia Town was cradled behind the Northern Mountain's stony faces and closed off from the rest of the world. Few towns in East Hyrule had any connection to it at all, and the Queen and Princess had learned about the village's existence with embarrassed surprise. After all, the only way to access the town was through a nightmarish maze of underground tunnels. Hyrule had fully expected to spend the night breathing in damp, stale air and sneezing as forcefully as he had all day. 

He'd underestimated Queen and Princess Zelda. 

The group had approached the foot of the mountain range with the knowledge that the next few hours would be rather unpleasant. They had all taken the information in stride -- all save for Legend, who had developed a frightening habit of staring at Four's back as if the universe's secrets were embroidered on the smithy's tunic. None of them, least of all Hyrule, had been prepared to see the massive, royally-sanctioned building project taking place along the cliffside. Apparently, while Hyrule had been gone, Queen and Princess Zelda commissioned the creation of a mountain path to Darunia Town. A road had been carved out of the face of the mountain by an assemblage of local men directly employed by the Royal Family of Hyrule itself, and even though their outfits were scuffed. Even, they wore them with pride. The workers' ruddy, friendly faces grew even friendlier when they caught sight of Hyrule, who they weren't sure whether to clap on the back or bow down to. After a few minutes of awkward gesticulating, Hyrule had made it clear that there was no need for formalities of any sort. The workers offered to escort the group straight to Darunia Town as recompense, which the Links agreed to with eager smiles. 

They had been led along a hair-thin path etched into the mountain, and every footstep sent small grains of sand tumbling down the cliffside's face. But Hyrule laughed in delight anyway, forgetting about his clammy skin and the blistering tension at the back of his head as he looked at the world from the mountain's summit. The other heroes followed behind him, similar expressions of awe on their faces as the stars sparkled overhead. 

Darunia Town's lights glimmered like diamonds on velvet as they approached, and Hyrule couldn't stop himself from smiling. Fireflies danced in the air like miniature stars. The traveler watched with a heart bursting with gratitude and thankfulness as the other heroes stared at the bugs with bright, adoring eyes. 

"There are so many of them!" Wind exclaimed. 

Hyrule nodded and smiled even wider. His cheeks began to sting, but he paid it no mind. 

"You know," the traveler began, "Dawn used to tell me that fireflies are symbols of hope. There's a story behind it, I might tell it to you some time." 

The sailor cradled one of the fireflies in his hand and nodded his head, face splitting into an even wider smile with the bug flickered and flew back off into the night. Darunia Town's entrance came into view, and the heroes could see the small, gathered crowd from a mile away.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur. Hyrule remembered being greeted by a hoard of chubby-faced, drooling toddlers, half of whom were named after him and all of whom wanted to climb into his lap and rub the stubble of his head. They snorted and giggled and grabbed at the cuffs of his Snowquill Set, protesting angrily when their mothers noticed the sickly sheen on Hyrule's face and gently pulled them away. There were mentions of a town meeting the next day, plans for a coordinated attack on the woods, whispers of sleeping arrangements being made in the house of Darunia Town's Wise Man. Hyrule felt his head growing heavier as the sky turned from blue to black to yellow. His coughing grew thinner, and his skin grew paler; he was just about ready to fall asleep on the ground when Darunia Town's Wise Man ushered the nine heroes into his house. 

Sky, Wild, Wind, Warriors, and Time fell asleep almost immediately, crammed and pressed together on a single, massive bed. Hyrule sat on the edge, rubbing the runoff from his nose on his sleeve and willing his pulsing head to silence itself. 

The guest room door creaked open. Four tiptoed in with a particularly vibrant look on his face, something bundled in his arms, with Twilight following behind. 

"Hyrule, check it out!" Four whispered, his voice silvery and bright. The soft moonbeams filtering through the frosted window outlined the floral bouquet the smithy held in his arms. 

"What's that?" Hyrule asked.

"Legend got these for me. And my four favorite flowers, too!" The smithy sat next to Hyrule and held up the bouquet so that the moonlight caught on the edges and illuminated the soft petals. "Bluebells, roses, green carnations, and artichoke flowers! I have no idea how he found these or why he gave them to me, but, you know, I'm not complaining." 

Hyrule brushed his fingers along the plush rose petals and tried to give Four a smile as bright as the one the smithy was serving him. 

"That's lovely. I'm sure he's happy to have been able to make you smile," Hyrule finally said. 

"Whatever the intentions, I really appreciate it. It's been a long time since I've seen any of these flowers, and all of them together like this almost looks...right." Four's smile grew wistful, and Hyrule grinned at the contagious joy simmering under the smithy's skin. 

"You two should get to bed," Twilight said. The two jolted at his voice, having had completely forgotten the rancher was even in the room with them. Twilight chuckled as the smithy obediently hopped off the bed and set the bouquet down next to the rest of his things. 

Only after Four had crawled into the bed and fallen asleep wedged between Wild and Time did Twilight take a seat next to Hyrule. The rancher had pulled up the hood of his wolf pelt, and his jaw worked in the way it often did when he was deciding on what to say. 

"Have you seen Legend?" Hyrule asked at last. The veteran was the only one missing from the room. While it wasn't unusual for him to go out wandering on the occasional night, Hyrule had an odd sense of unease around him. 

"Haven't seen him, no, but I'm pretty sure he's somewhere downstairs." 

"You didn't see him on your way up?" 

"Up? Oh, no, I was in the bathroom," Twilight said. To call it a bathroom was a bit of an exaggeration. The cubicle crammed in the corner of the Wise Man's second floor held nothing more than a chamber pot and an askew mirror, but it served its purpose. 

"Wow, all that time?" Hyrule quipped. "Maybe I really did get you sick." 

Twilight snickered. 

"No, I wasn't using it. Just fixing my hair. Actually…" 

Twilight tugged down his hood to reveal a freshly-shaven head. 

"I thought I might twin with one of the wisest people I've ever met." 

"...you…" Hyrule whispered, eyes widening as he lost track of the words he wanted to say. 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't have to," Hyrule said, blinking back the water building in his eyes. 

"I know. I did it because I wanted to." 

Twilight's arms extended in an invitation for a hug, and this time, Hyrule didn't flinch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you've got any thoughts or questions , don't be afraid to leave a comment! I always reply to each and every comment you guys leave, and I promise I don't bite ♥ 🤍💙


	8. The Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mirror is sentient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all are doing well. My apologies for the late upload; this chapter was an absolute beast to write and I couldn’t get myself to be satisfied with it. There were a lot of fantastic suggestions I received on how to improve the story and I couldn’t implement them all with my current skill level, so expect that this chapter will be rewritten or at least revised in the future. Some housekeeping things before we begin!
> 
> (1) WARNING: This chapter is intense and describes two seperate panic attacks. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> (2) RecommendedVibes! There are three recommended songs for this chapter, and, in order, they are: Salve Regina: A Templar Chant (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uj8h4SCsnE), Eyes Wide Open (Cinematic Remix) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUPUyKnAow4), and Safety in the Sanctuary from ALTTP (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCi1Z5CzHrs&t=174s). You can start ‘Salve Regina’ right from the start, as it’s the opening vibe, but the other two will come in at specific times. The notation is as follows.  
> [*-1] is my recommendation to stop the first song, Salve Regina. [*2] is my recommendation to start the second song, Eyes Wide Open, and [*-2] my recommendation to stop it. [*3] would be my recommendation to start Safety in the Sanctuary, which carries on until the end of the fic. I know it’s a lot of work just to read some fanfiction, and even though it’s a completely optional experience, I highly recommend that you listen to the tracks! It’ll add a level of ambience that straight storytelling can never achieve. :D
> 
> Alright, story time!

[*1: Start ‘Salve Regina’]

The Magic Cloak’s invisibility spell was far less effective than one would imagine.

His body was invisible, perhaps, but every other hallmark of his presence clung to the air. Even with the coat wrapped around him, Legend's footsteps still thudded on the sun-baked dirt below. The Lens of Truth and Magic Mirror, both clipped to his belt, slapped against the muscles of his legs as he ran. A flitting impression of his shadow pooled behind his heels, and he had to press himself against the nearest building each time a passerby got too close. 

He pulled the cloak tighter around him, waiting until an old lady wandered out of eyeshot, and sprinted down dirt-packed streets.

Even though they had just arrived in the small town, Legend found himself desperate to get out. There was a look in the sleepy-eyed children, a conviction in the cataractous eyes of the old women, that screamed the thing he could bear to hear least.

_ Weknowwhatyoudidweknowwhatyoudidweknowwhatyoudid _

The breath in his lungs stung and a wave of heat rippled underneath his skin. Faster. He had to get out of here faster. His heart drummed against his ribcage. The other heroes wouldn't have noticed he left yet, they were still meandering in the town. As long as he got back before they found a place to sleep, he would be fine.

He would be fine.

He would be fine.

He choked back the lie's bitter taste and continued running. 

The fringes of town grew closer as Legend slipped under the town entrance and into the dried wilderness beyond. A sea of dead, yellow grass shuddered in the evening wind, and the smell of midnight carried on the breeze. The light had already gone from the sky and the pathetic smattering of stars pressed up against its black dome did little to illuminate the scene around him. Fireflies droned sullenly, carried on black gauze wings and leaving dirty smears of yellow light in their wake. Legend pulled off his cloak and waved them away. His feet wandered anxiously, quickly, mindlessly, moving aimlessly into the twilight wilderness.

His head was too loud.

Did Four ever feel this way?

The skin of his neck twinged. He blinked quickly, and another hot wave roiled underneath his skin. He breathed in the scent of a cursed elemental sanctuary and white, bleeding light and smothered cries for help. He breathed in the scent of old secrets and hidden pain and a terribly, horribly, sincere lie.

He couldn't---

He couldn't think---

Couldn't breath---

Coudln'tfourfourfourFOURfourouffrouforuourfourfourfroufourofuroufrffrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The cloak slipped off from around him, and his body crashed forward into the dead, yellow grass. His chest heaved once, then grew still. He waited until the air in his lungs grew stale before letting out a long, wheezing breath.

Four.

Oh, Four. 

_ Oh, Four, what happened to you? What happened to you?  _

Legend rolled on his side, listening to the grass crunch beneath him and ignoring the tickle of ants crawling on his face and legs. His heart grew cold amidst the burning and screaming and crashing in his mind.

This, all of this...

The madness.

The sickness.

It was...

He stared at the freshly-bandaged tips of his fingers, the small, ivory coils Time had so gently wrapped around the wounds. Small veins of crimson had already settled into the white cloth, pulsating with the threat to stain yet another set of bandages. The heat under his skin came back, flushing up from his legs and down from his head to wrap around his heart. His fury was silent.

He knew exactly who was to blame. Exactly  _ what  _ was to blame. It lay against the muscles at the back of his leg as he lay in the grass, clipped to his belt: apart, two saints, together, one sinner. One demon. One--

Legend's entire body contracted at once, and he yanked the Lens of Truth and Magic Mirror from off his belt. The bones in his elbow crunched as he held out the two artifacts in front of his face. His breaths came in grunts. Two images of himself, both as sallow and depraved as the others, stared back with wild eyes.

Another long, hot breath.

Breath in. 

Breath out.

Breath in.

BreathfourfourfourFOURfourouffrouforuourfourfourfroufourofuroufrffrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

He moaned and clutched his head, letting the artifacts drop to the ground and clatter on top of each other.

The world held its breath as Legend made his choice. 

The fusion spell burst from his lips like a cry, a curse, the habitual song of an addicted man.

And then came the light. Brilliant and clean and sharp and holy, it cut through the dusk and bisected the firefly’s pathetic smears of light. The stars shrunk back in terror and the wilderness grew silent. Legend's body convulsed with clarity. He let out a crisp, clean breath. Curiosity and fascination grew deafening in the cartilage of his pointed ears. 

The light twirled and faded, seeping into the grass underneath and leaving no memory of its presence as darkness rushed to fill the gaps left behind. Legend ran a hand through his hair and squatted on his heels, waving away mosquitoes and fireflies that were just as curious as him. The moon was only a curved, silver incision in the sky, and the light from Darunia Town was too far to be of use, so only the light from the drifting fireflies and stars illuminated the scene in front of him. Legend reached out a hand in the darkness and patted the grass around him, eyes shooting up into his forehead when his bandaged fingers brushed the mirror.  _ The  _ mirror.

Fused already.

That...was quick. Quicker than normal.

Or perhaps he had lost his perception of time along with his sanity.

Legend let out an angry laugh and brought the mirror to his face. The rim shimmered with its own inner light, and the mirror's glass, flawless and golden as always, glimmered seductively. The veteran stood up, his grip around the mirror growing vice-like as he did.

The moon stared from behind a cloud as the Hero of Legend howled and threw the mirror as far as he could. It scratched against the dry grass and skidded to a stop at the foot of a thistle bush. The hero screamed again. Intrigued, the moon cast aside her celestial covering and poured her light on the scene below.

Legend shambled over to the mirror and poised a heel above its glass.

"I'm going to do it. I’m going to do it if you don't explain--explain what you've done to me," he hissed, the words slipping out of his airy exhale like tears on a child's face. 

The moon peered closer.

"I can't--you can't--Four needs me. Four needs me, and you've ruined my mind and now--and now I can't help him."

The mirror said nothing.

"You--this is your fault.  _ Your fault. YOURS!" _

Legend's foot trembled from its position above the mirror. He repeated his threat.

" **If you want to have this conversation, you'll need to find me a proper vessel."**

The moon shuddered and hid behind her cloud. Legend bit back a scream. His heart beat faster. His eyes widened at the behest of a familiar drug, the clarity coursing through his veins, the obsessive desire to seek and figure and find.

He was alive again.

And so was the mirror.

"What do you mean, 'proper vessel?'" Legend heard himself ask. There was no ire in his voice.

**"My speech in this form is limited. Give me something else."**

"...to speak with?"

The mirror was silent. Legend took a few steps back, eyes scanning over the sharp, purple blossoms of the thistle bush and the craggy mountains to the north. A slim rectangle of orange light glittered in the distance, and Legend's ears and eyebrows pricked upwards. He tossed on the invisibility cloak and crouched by the mirror, eyes trained on the small light.

Tuneless humming and shuffling feet accompanied the light's approach. It was a lantern, a dirty thing made from poorly-blown glass and a lopsided candle, held by a lank-haired, sharp-faced boy. He couldn't have been any older than five or six, yet he walked along with confident feet and bored eyes trained on Darunia Town. He held a small basket of strawberries and cherries under his arm -- most likely he'd been sent out to pick fruits and had forgotten to come home before sundown.

Moonlight glinted patiently off the mirror's glass.

_...if you want to have this conversation... _

_...a proper vessel... _

Legend's breath froze when he processed the enormity of what he'd just thought. His mind scrambled and raced and puddled inside his skull. There was a fleeting attempt at rationalization, forgiveness, half-muttered phrases about being tired and never truly meaning to do a thing like that. A hero, hero, he was a hero, these thoughts were the mirror's, not his.

The boy passed by, smiled at the fireflies, and kept walking towards the town. Legend watched him go. When the boy passed through the town's gates, Legend realized he'd forgotten to breathe, and then remembered and compensated for it by breathing too much and too quickly. 

His head grew light.

The boy was gone. 

He was safe. 

A toad croaked from beside him and crept under the thistle bush. Its dark, dusty skin blended in with the grass underneath and the shadow above. Legend's eyes snapped from the distant town to the toad.

_...a proper vessel... _

Legend picked up the toad between two fingers and ignored its frightened squeals. The cloak slipped off his back and his reflection appeared in the mirror's glass. 

"Will this work?"

**"Yes,”** came the unexpected answer.

Legend held the mirror in his other hand and froze, realizing he wasn't sure what to do next.

But the mirror did.

Its glass began to bubble, shimmering gold, then silver, then cerulean and crimson and lilac. It puddled like liquid in the metal setting, and Legend's startled breath sent ripples across mirrors' surface. His grip around the toad loosened. It popped out of his hand and settled underneath the mirror's shadow.

That was the last mistake the poor thing would ever make.

The glass began to drip out of its metal setting in viscous, lethargic strings. Long threads of glass spittle dangled from the mirrors' rim, drifted for a split second in the wind, then wrapped around the toad’s middle like a little girl's fingers. The toad blinked its beady, black eyes once, then twice, then moved its limbs experimentally. Satisfied, the mirror disappeared in a cloud of silver.

The toad blinked again, and stared at Legend with filmy, golden eyes.

Legend stared back, eyes wide and jaw slack against his neck.

**"You're very dramatic, you know,"** the toad said, it's voice crisp and clean and terrifyingly human.

Legend's jaw snapped back up, and his teeth clanged together. He crossed his arms.

"I'm dramatic?  _ I'm dramatic?  _ All of this,  _ all of this,  _ everything that's happening...this is your fault. Yours!"

The toad -- mirror --  _ whatever it was --  _ said nothing. Legend's tongue burned with words he'd forgotten how to create.

"Don’t pretend like you’re innocent," Legend continued, every word rolling around in his mouth like molten marbles. "You’re the reason, you're the reason my mind is, is messed up. I can’t think, I can’t, I can’t think. It’s your fault. All I can think...all I can think about is Four. Four. Four." He took a greedy breath of air and glared at the toad with renewed intensity. "You need to help me fix him. You need to. If you can break me, then you can fix him."

**"..."**

"Well?"

**"Are you really going to blame me for the consequences of your actions? For your own guilt?"**

"Guilt? Oh, I know what guilt is. This, this isn’t it. Guilt doesn’t steal your mind away, your breath, your ability to think, your--"

**"What do you know about guilt? You’re a hero, a savior of nations, the owner of a soul so old and so pure that its only cracks are the byproduct of antiquity, not transgression."**

Legend snorted and tried to brush the comment off. He sat down on the dried grass beneath him, and the toad climbed up on the thistle thorns and sat on the barbed blossom. Its golden eyes didn't stray from him once.

"Are you calling me perfect?" Legend finally said.

**"Of course not. We wouldn't be having this conversation if that were the case."**

Legend waved a hand in the air as if to disperse the implications of the toad's comment.

"Listen, I’ve done wrong things before. I’m, I’m doing wrong things now. I know what guilt is, I’ve--"

**"Do you, really?"**

"I--"

**"True, mortal guilt is something you haven’t tasted before. It's bitter, isn’t it?"**

"..."

**"Welcome to the brotherhood of sinners, hero."**

A dry, unforgiving wind blew through the empty field. Legend inhaled the dust and stifled a cough, letting the dirt scratch at his throat as he swallowed. His head fell into his hands and he felt his heart grow hollow.

"What am I supposed to do?" Legend whispered. He stared at the endless carpet of dried grass beneath him. "How, how do I fix this? How do I fix myself? How do I fix Four?"

**"Stop what you're doing."**

His blood grew sharp with ice. Legend let out a tremulous breath and was almost shocked when it didn’t cloud in front of him.

"Stop what?" Each syllable was sharp and brittle, slicing through the silence like blue swords on dark nights. "How--when--what am I supposed to stop?"

**"You already know."**

A firefly landed on the thistle bush and poured its yellow light on the plant's thorny leaves.

**"Hero of Legend, there is a way to be good again."**

Legend turned his eyes away from the toad and screwed them shut, waiting for the thudding in his heart to forget itself. His lungs ballooned with air that he exhaled in short, hot puffs.

"Just tell me how I can help Four." 

**"Is that your decision?"**

"Just  _ tell me." _

Legend felt a cool rivulet of relief trickle down his spine when the toad closed its eyes and turned away.

**"Very well."**

Inhale.

Exhale.

All was still.

And then the earth shook.

[*-1][*2]

The dust around the thistle bush let out a rattling wail, and dirt specks the size of pinheads skittered across the surface. Long-dead tree roots buried in the dust contracted and pushed up mounds of wet, fresh earth. Legend watched as the earth around him trembled, flipped and turned with the grace of a gentle wave and undertaker's shovel. A perfect circle of fresh dirt formed with Legend and the thistle bush at the center; an island of new life in an endless sea of dead grass and hollow logs.

Legend stood up and felt the earth's heartbeat pulse through his shoes, quick, excited, hopeful.

And that's when the mirror brought the flowers -- Four's flowers -- into existence.

They burst from the ground like molten glass and sprayed iridescent lava from the earth they rose from. Underneath the moon's astonished gaze, the stalks of twisting, blue lava cooled and hardened into flowers. Real flowers, with thick, plush petals that bashfully kept an imprint of Legend's fingers when he touched them in disbelieving awe. The aroma of roses, bluebells, carnations, and artichoke flowers clouded in the air like perfume, and the stars overhead sparkled a little brighter than before.

"These...these flowers...are these?"

**"Yes."**

"...thank you."

**"They're not for you."**

"Still."

The mirror and moon watched as Legend plucked one of each type of flower: rose, bluebell, carnation, and artichoke. He bound the four flowers together with a strip of dried grass and stared at the bouquet in his arms.

It was beautiful. Different, strange, so close to ugly that it was  _ beautiful _ .

His heart thudded. The darkness, the weight that had settled on his shoulders and clawed under his skin, dissipated.

"Let's go," Legend said.

The toad hopped down from the thistle bush and followed Legend to Darunia Town.

It smelled like flowers and fireflies.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Four had been the first and the only Link to immediately notice Legend had gone missing. It wasn't much of a feat, all things considered. Sitting on the Wise Man's porch steps and listening to him drone on about the local monster attacks and economy and, inevitably, politics, had made him hypersensitive to any sort of diversion. Of course, he was concerned for the town, but his famous patience had been whittled down by the grueling march through the mountains and his present exhaustion.

So when Legend excused himself to use the bathroom, Four noticed. And when a Legend-shaped shadow passed over the porch and hurried out of town, Four noticed.

He probably would have continued to notice everything but the animated conversation between Darunia Town's Wise Man and all his companions, but sleepiness had begun to take hold of him. He had to nudge Time more than once in silent supplication that they all continue this conversation in the morning. It was only when Hyrule nodded off and nearly fell off the porch that the Wise Man insisted everyone get to bed. They had all been happy to oblige, not even sparing a second to ask for dinner before trudging upstairs, casting off their traveling clothes, and collapsing onto the bed. Four and Twilight lagged behind, the former slowed down by the lethargy that came with being awake too long, the latter bogged down by his thoughts.

"I'm worried about Hyrule," Twilight said at last, hovering just outside the bedroom door.

Four put his hands on his hips and waited for the rancher to elaborate.

"There's something he's not telling us."

"Ah, I see. But that's not necessarily a bad thing," Four said, fiddling with the stitching on his tunic.

"Oh, no, of course not. But if it's something that he's -- well, I just get the feeling that whatever he's keeping from us is the kind of secret that will hurt him far more than it'll hurt us. I don't really know how to explain it. But sometimes, when we were walking to town, I mean, I would look at him, and he would have this look in his eyes. Like he was waiting for something. Hoping for something. Hoping," Twilight gesticulated absently as he grasped for the right words, "hoping for something he didn't think he would get. Ugh. Pardon me. I don't even know what I'm saying. It's just that he looks so..."

"...alone," Four finished.

"Yes. Exactly."

Twilight sighed, and his hand fell away from the bedroom doorknob. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips.

"I'm going to use the bathroom," Twilight said as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be back quickly. Don't worry about me."

"You've given me no reason to worry," Four said. There was a deep, purple intelligence in his eyes that Twilight acknowledged with a subconscious nod. A wave of understanding and respect passed between them as Four waved to the rancher and descended back down the stairs. He absent-mindedly patted a small mint plant growing out of the wall and crept out to sit on the porch. His eyes widened to adjust to the pitch-black darkness outside, and his eyes found themselves seeking out the faded, speckled stars overhead.

Four propped his face up in his hands and stared at his boots.

Hyrule had Twilight.

Looks like Legend was stuck with him.

And so, he waited. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Legend stuffed his magic cape in his bag and walked into Darunia Town with eyebrows knotted in determination. The toad trailed behind him with silent, golden eyes, and the hero held the bouquet to his heart. 

The streets were silent and empty. The moon shone brilliantly in the sky, unchallenged by oil lamps or candles, and Legend squinted against the dark. 

“Legend!” A familiar voice cried. The hero in question turned a corner and grinned at the sight that greeted him. 

Four stood on the porch of the Wise Man’s house, eyes half-closed in exhaustion and face alight with relief. The smithy beckoned Legend forward and took a few hurried steps off the porch. 

“Oh, Legend!” Four continued, “I was about to go out and look for you. Is everything alright? I was getting worried.” 

“Just needed some fresh air. I wasn't feeling too great earlier.” Legend found himself impressed at how easily the lie slipped off his tongue. “Maybe I caught whatever Hyrule’s got.”

“Oh, I hope that’s not the case. Poor traveler looks like he’s only gonna get worse before he gets better. Hopefully a good night’s rest will do you well.” 

“Mmhmm. And what about you? How are you doing?” 

Four was taken aback by the softness in Legend’s voice. There was something unusual, not unwelcome, but unusual, in the gentleness and earnestness in the veteran’s face and tone. The smithy rubbed his headband and swiped a few fingers under his eyes as if to rub the weariness away, then turned to the veteran. 

“I’m doing alright. Tired, you know. Just a little tired.” 

“What kind of tired?” 

Four’s heart twinged, and he felt his mask chip at the edges. He sat down on the porch step and smiled subconsciously when Legend sat next to him. The veteran pushed something behind him as he took a seat -- had he gone out to buy bread or milk? Typical Legend, always thinking three steps ahead. 

“I’m tired in more ways than one,” Four began. “Sometimes I feel like I just want to sleep for a thousand years. Being a hero is tiring, you know? It’s a blessing, for sure. But it’s tiring.” Four propped his head in his hand and watched a little toad hop onto the steps. Legend muttered something under his breath and then turned to Four. 

“I understand completely.” 

“Mmm,” Four replied. “Thank you.” 

The smithy combed his hair between his fingers, and the veteran stared at the bandages on his fingers.

“I really admire you, do you know that?” Legend said suddenly.

“Huh?” Four asked, eyebrows climbing up behind his headband. “Oh. Uh, what an honor. Out of all the things I thought you would say, that wasn’t one of them.” 

Legend smiled. 

“I really do. You’re under a lot of pressure. And you’re handling it very well. I admire that. And, you know, if you ever feel like you’re a fake or something like that, as if you’re just putting on a show, let me tell you something. I’ve spent my whole life around liars. The good and bad kind. I know what disingenuity is.” Legend’s eyes locked with Four’s, and a deep, frightening insistence glittered behind cerulean irises. “You are not one of those people. The strength you display is not a farce.” 

Four’s mouth opened, then closed. He stared at nothing and said nothing. Legend watched as his words sunk in and soothed the tension in the smithy’s shoulders, and he sent up a grateful prayer to an unknown goddess. 

The toad on the porch continued to stare. 

“You know,” Legend continued, “I actually went out to get you something.”

The veteran pulled out the bouquet of flowers from behind them and handed them to Four, watching with pleading, careful, guilty eyes as the smithy’s breathing stopped. 

“Wh….oh. Oh.  _ Oh. Oh, I love them. _ ” Four trailed his fingers around the frilly petals of the green carnation and around the plush lips of the rose. His hands ran down the dry, proud stalk of the artichoke flower and the slim, green stem of the bluebell. In the low light, it almost seemed like his eyes were flickering different colors. 

“I’m glad you like them,” Legend said. 

“How did you know?” Four asked, eyes trained on the veteran. 

“Know what?” 

“How did you know that these, these flowers, are my favorites? You know, I used to grow these in the small flower garden I had with my grandfather. A long time ago, back when I was just a kid. Before the adventures. None of these flowers bloom at the same time, and I always assumed that they were fated to be, well, I’m gonna sound dramatic here, but it was almost like these flowers were fated to always be separated. But seeing them like this...that’s beautiful.” 

“Four,” Legend said, placing a calloused hand on the smithy’s forearm, “whatever you’re seeing in these flowers, I see in you tenfold. I don’t really know too much about your past and I’m not asking to know. But you’ve been through a lot. And, well, if you ever need someone to talk to or just want to get something off your mind, you can always talk to me.” 

Four was silent. His fingers brushed at his eyes and he focused on something far away. 

“I...I’m touched. I’m honored.” The smithy blinked faster and inhaled quickly, and placed his hand over the one Legend had on his forearm. “You’re a good man, Legend.” 

[*-2][*3]

The tranquility on Legend’s face vaporized. His heartbeat quickened and he felt himself standing up, he felt himself shrinking from Four’s touch, from Four’s words, from the lie spoken so sincerely and so naively. 

“I need, aha, I need to go,” Legend stammered. 

“Are you alright?” Four asked.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

Legend ignored Four’s concerned protests and dashed into the house. He sprinted up the steps, ignoring the toad trailing on the leather of his boots, deafening his ears to Twilight’s anxious muttering as he passed by. Legend threw himself into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. His eyes flickered crazily around the room, ignoring the toad’s croaking and the stench of sickness.

A standing mirror was propped up in the corner. Wallpaper peeled off the walls like wood on a birch tree, and the room stunk of all things foul. A chamber pot stood in the opposite corner, flanked by a sizable pile of what looked like dirty blond curls. Had someone cut their hair in here? Legend shut his eyes and ignored the anxious whispering outside his door. 

“--maybe he’s sick--”

“--stomach bug? Hyrule might have given it to him--” 

“--flowers--gave them--so kind--”

His hands slammed into the sides of his head, and Legend breathed louder and louder until the whispering outside faded and stopped. Footsteps faded. Moonlight oozed through the tiny, brick-sized bathroom window. His body crumpled against the foot of the door. 

The toad creeped up beside him. 

Legend slapped it away. 

He checked again to make sure the door was locked, then crawled over to the mirror in the corner of the room. It was cracked into a thousand smaller images of itself and had been shoddily taped back together; grime had settled into the cracks, black and sluggish, and had turned the edges of each sharp fragment green. 

Legend peeled off the bandages on his fingers and stared at the bloodied bone that poked out. 

_ You’re a good man, Legend  _

He shook his head and let out an empty breath. 

_ youreagoodmangoodmangoodmanLegend _

**“Hero of Legend, there is a way to be good again.”**

Legend turned around, furious, angry words burning on the tip of his tongue waiting to be hurled at the toad. 

But the toad was dead, shriveled up and crammed into the corner.  _ The _ mirror sat beside it, shimmering gold. 

**“You must make a choice.”**

Legend pressed his forehead to the shattered wall mirror and felt the skin of his forehead rub against the tape. 

A choice. 

A choice. 

A choice. 

He had to make a choice. 

A thousand Legends stared back from the mirror in front of him. For half a heartbeat, Legend remembered what life was like before the mirror. Before the mistakes. Before the guilt. 

A pathetic sound escaped his lips. 

And then his mind grew loud with memories of the excitement, the adrenaline, the blistering, beautiful clarity that came with his curiosity. The beauty of worlds between worlds, of things half-realized, of the exceptional, dreadful, all-consuming knowledge that he was privy to things no one else was. 

The feeling of being alive. 

The first breath of dawn came through the brick window only to be stifled by the overwhelming stench in the bathroom. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

He had already made his decision long ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it! Shoutout to everyone who attended the extreme live write for this fic over on the LU Discord, you guys really gave me so much energy and excitement to post this chapter. You guys gave me a lot of fantastic suggestions, and if you didn't see them implemented in the chapter already, just know that they probably will once I am able to rewrite this chapter. If you have any questions, comments, conundrums, snarks, or concrit, I’d love to hear it! I reply to each and every comment I get! <3


	9. The Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legend is a very good actor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I’m so glad to finally present this chapter to you all, it’s the longest chapter I’ve written for any fic ever and it pushed the limits of my writing skills in every way, shape, and form. Some housekeeping before we begin! 
> 
> (1) This chapter is not as extreme as its predecessors, but certainly still falls in that realm. Reader discretion is advised. Feel free to review the tags if you’re worried that something triggering may come up, or DM me with questions on the LU discord/leave a comment
> 
> (2) RecommendedVibes! There are four (4) of them this time. Here they are!  
> [*1] Cottage ambience (trying something new with an ASMR-esque track! It’s very subtle, just morning sounds like birds chirping and things like that. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpbjQqPakRE&t=266s)  
> [*2] Undertale OST - Ruins Extended (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VT9BfLVbnI8)  
> [*3] Chi blockers extended - The Legend of Korra OST (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4qmhX0HRy0)  
> [*4] The Last Agni Kai - Avatar the Last Airbended | EPIC VERSION (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_1MxeMHX9A) -- shout out to Pud for letting me know I originally linked the wrong video! 
> 
> I highly recommend that you listen to the tracks if you are able!! If you want a guide on how the music notations work, take a look at the notes for Chapter 8. I just didn’t want to hold you guys away from the story for much longer. 
> 
> So, without further ado, here is Chapter 9 of “The Most Sincere Kind of Lie!” I truly hope you enjoy.

[1*: Start ‘Cottage Ambience’]

Legend woke up in the bathroom.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up, blinking slowly as he took in his surroundings. Harsh daylight flooded through the tiny window and amplified the bathroom’s fetid smell. The taste of stale breath and acid burned the back of his throat, and a heaviness lingered on the side he’d fallen asleep on. How had he fallen asleep here? He hadn’t even been that tired. Legend forced himself to stand, and the shattered wall mirror echoed his actions a thousand times over. 

Deciding to shake out the pins and needles sparkling up his legs, Legend investigated the room and confirmed there was nothing else in the room but him, the chamberpot, the wall mirror, and a strangely familiar pile of blond curls. It felt like something was missing, but Legend’s mind was too groggy to register what it could be.

Stomach empty and face puffy, Legend sat back down by the chamber pot. His bandaged fingers drummed against the floor. He had slept well -- really well, in fact -- but a weight pressed against his ribcage and siphoned the energy out of him. Thinking for too long, thinking about  _ that _ , made the muscles in his throat clench and the taste of vomit cling to his tongue. Unease trilled from his scalp to his toes. Last night had…

No.

No use dwelling on those thoughts.

He sighed and rested his head against the bathroom wall. He should think about something else, no, he  _ needed  _ to think about something else. How about the light? Yeah, that was good. That would work. He could think about that instead. Legend tilted his head so that the sunlight coming through the window could spill over the side of his face, and the corner of his lips twitched upwards. The hairs on his cheeks stood up in cheerful salutation to the sun, and a trill echoed down his spine. It was warm,  _ so  _ beautifully warm. A little bit too warm, actually. Legend pulled himself away from the light and scrutinized the streamers coming through the small window. It came in much too strongly for it to be morning light, and judging from its sheer warmth, it had to be somewhere around midday. That meant it was afternoon or, at least, late morning. How come none of the others had woken him up? This was strange. 

His ears pricked upwards as a familiar sound sifted through the brick wall.

That sounded like Wind.

Were the walls of this place really so thin that noises from downstairs could make it all the way here? Legend turned his face to the brick and rapped his knuckles against it. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan when the mortar crumbled and a handful of bricks popped out of the wall, leaving a small, hand sized hole behind. 

Legend brought his face eye-level with his newly made peep hole. A scene of the downstairs kitchen and living room stood below him, replete in all its chaotic glory and edged in grey from the bricks that framed his view. Wind and Four sat by a lopsided table, trying to braid the flowers from the smithy’s bouquet into his hair. Wild, Twilight, and a strangely nauseous-looking Hyrule sat across from them. The champion was laughing loudly as he grabbed two fistfulls of his hair and gently tugged them in either direction. He was most likely making some sort of comment on the inconvenience of his long locks, judging from the exaggerated expression on his face, the fragments of words Legend heard, and the fact that both Twilight and Hyrule were completely bald. Hmm. Was he still dreaming? He didn’t remember either of them cutting their hair. Legend rubbed his chin as he thought, eyes snapping back to the pile of cut hair next to the chamber pot. It was the right color to be Twilight’s, but not Hyrule’s. He was forgetting something -- he knew it.

A foreign giggle cut through the afternoon ambience. Legend's eyes followed the noise and traced it to a small boy sitting next to Sky. Both of them had their backs turned to the veteran, clearly absorbed in some sort of card game. Even though only the shaggy tops of their heads visible from his vantage point, there was something vaguely familiar about the boy next to Sky. The Wise Man had said something about having a grandson, was this the boy? Perhaps. Whoever he was, he and Sky were getting along famously. And good thing, too, the Skyloftian needed a little bit of love. His gaze drifted back to Wind, then Four, then back to Sky. A softness bubbled from his heart. There was something beautiful about seeing those three happy, even for a little while. 

Legend scrunched his nose up at his own sappiness and waited for the emotions to subside. He forced himself to re-focus on the scene below, and his gaze latched onto the far side of the room. Warriors and Time stood in the corner, elbows propped on the kitchen counter and hips sticking out at odd angles. They seemed to be engrossed in a map or scroll in front of them, judging from the way their fingers trailed the countertop and their hushed, urgent conversation. A battle plan, Legend concluded. He must have been out for quite a while, then, for Time and Warriors to have put together a near-complete attack plan while he was asleep.

No big deal. It didn’t look like he was missed.

That was good.

In more ways than one.

Legend stood up and stretched, placing his hands on his back and forcing his stomach outward. His vertebrae popped satisfyingly as he did so, and Legend smiled to himself. 

It didn’t reach his eyes.

There was something comfortable and extremely nerve wracking about knowing you’d gotten away.

Even if it was with something that wasn’t technically wrong.

His blood prickled with ice. Adrenaline flushed his cheeks.

It wasn’t technically wrong.

It wasn’t.

It wa--

The locked doorknob rattled.

“Openopenopenopenplease,” begged a strange, gurgly voice on the other side of the door. The supplication had barely faded from the air when the door shuddered with desperate, intense knocks.

Oh, had someone finally remembered he was here? Legend sauntered over to the door, a witty remark already on his tongue, and glowered when the knocking redoubled in intensity.

“Hylia above, I’m coming!” Legend grumbled, unlocking and opening the door.

Hyrule burst through the doorway and sprinted past him, a hand pressed to his mouth and a frighteningly pale, queasy look on his face. Legend watched him pass, face scrunching in sympathy as he registered what was going on. No need for him to stick around, then.

The veteran slipped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, pointedly blocking out the sounds coming from the bathroom, and made his way down the stairs. Motes of flour and sugar danced in the air, illuminated by the bright light pouring through the cracked windows. The smell of sweat and dusty boots suggested that the group had already been out earlier that day. Not hard to believe, Legend mused. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Warriors snuck up behind him and clapped him on the back.

“The sleeping princess rises!” Warriors declared, slinging his arm over Legend’s shoulders. Wind, Four, and Time clapped as Wild whistled, and Legend gave the assorted heroes a grandiose bow.

“Good afternoon, Legend,” Sky said from his seat on the floor. His voice was tempered and gentle as always. “Did you sleep well? I see that you’re trying to take my place as the laziest hero.”

A titter went around the room, and Legend joined in. It was a fake, artificial sound, but the insincerity behind it was hardly audible.

He had made his choice long ago, yes, but nobody had to know.

“Have you met Jilo, by the way? He’s the Wise Man’s grandson,” Sky continued, gesturing to the boy sitting next to him. Legend shook his head, then froze as he processed the sight in front of him.

Black curls.

Sharp face.

Blistered fingers from picking fruit.

Legend’s heart and lungs stalled, then exploded into action. Blood screamed through his veins. Heat flared up his back and stung his muscles. Legend was sure the others could see him vibrating and swaying from the force of his palpitations.

_ The boy. _

_ The boy from yesterday. _

Jilo stared back at Legend with blank, bored eyes, and fiddled with the paper playing cards in his hands.

Did he know?

Oh Hylia.

_ Did he know? _

The boy blinked, then turned to Sky.

“That guy smells,” Jilo finally concluded.

The room burst into riotous laughter and not-so-quiet agreement.

Legend exhaled and smiled, making sure it reached his eyes this time.

“That’s what happens when you fall asleep in the bathroom, kid,” he said, winking at Jilo as he took a seat at the table. Four passed him a covered plate of bread and cheese, and Wild attested to its quality in his trademark stage-whisper voice.

Legend chewed slowly, settling back into his chair and letting the cream melt on his tongue. Everyone slipped back into their earlier activities, and the veteran watched the scene with half-lidded eyes and counterfeit contentment.

"You were out for a good while, huh?" Twilight muttered, casting a noncommittal glance towards Legend.

"I guess I was," Legend began, wiping away a smear of cream from the corner of his mouth. "I guess I was really tired from everything that happened last night."

"Last night?"

Legend's heart froze for a split second, but he caught himself before the fringes of his facade could chip. Relaxing back into the chair and cradling his fingers at the back of his head, Legend slipped on his best smirk.

"What, were you not there for that ridiculous hike through the mountains yesterday, rancher?"

Twilight's eyebrows flickered, and the lines around his face tightened as the memory registered. 

“Oh, yes. That’s fair.” Twilight rubbed the stubble on his head before turning back to Legend. “You weren’t up to anything in that bathroom, were you?”

“Up to anything? Well, sleeping, perhaps, not much else.” 

“Can I see your hands for a minute?” 

Legend’s twitched, and his heart thudded as he remembered the bandages on his fingers. Oh Hylia.  _ Oh Hylia. How would he explain such a dramatic wound? He couldn’t blame monsters or a cooking accident or a runaway infection. The rancher was too smart to fall for that. Think think think! If happenstance or clumsiness weren’t viable scapegoats...maybe he could just fake his way out of it?  _

“Sure, whatever,” Legend forced himself to say, wiggling his fingers under Twilight’s nose and plastering on the most flamboyant, Warriors-esque smile he had. Twilight’s eyes narrowed as he took Legend’s hands into his own. The veins in the veteran’s neck flared with frost and pushed against his skin like living, blue lace. 

_ Act natural, act natural, act natural, act natural... _

The rancher’s eyes didn’t linger on Legend’s bandaged fingers for a second. Instead, Twilight pushed back the cloth of Legend’s sleeves and ran his calloused fingers over the veteran’s wrist. The skin was white, smooth and unmarred. The hard edges around Twilight’s face faded away and melted into bashfulness. 

“Sorry about that,” Twilight said, letting go of Legend’s hands. “I was just worried.” 

“Worried about what?” the veteran snorted, ignoring the hint of an answer building at the back of his head. 

“The shattered mirror up there has a lot of sharp edges. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t -- well, that you weren’t up to anything.” 

Legend’s mouth clamped shut. The tip of his tongue was caught between his teeth, and the taste of metal bubbled over his lips. 

“Anyway,” Twilight continued, “you didn’t miss much while you were asleep. We met with some of the village elders to get more information on the monster attacks, and Warriors put together a battle plan for tonight. The old man’s helping him iron out the details, but right now it looks like we’re going to be doing some ambushing a little bit after midnight.” 

One of Legend’s eyebrows piqued upwards to compliment the half-grin on his face. “It’s a good thing I slept in then, huh?” 

“Yes, actually. Warriors wanted us to all nap through the afternoon so we’re not dead on our feet during the attack,” Twilight explained. “But you and I should be good. I woke up way later than I usually do too, so I guess we’re stuck together while everyone else sleeps.”

“What are we gonna do all day, then?” 

“That’s a good question.” Twilight made a motion to run his hand through his hair, then, remembering he no longer had any, drummed his fingers against the table. “You know, we could go out into town and buy Hyrule a new tunic. To replace his old one, you know? Wild’s clothes don’t fit him very well, and it’s probably not very safe to have him borrow someone else’s things when he’s as sick as he is. Huh? What’s up with that look on your face? His tunic. Remember what happened to it? How he had to...Hylia, you must have left your brain back in that bathroom; you look like you’ve forgotten about everything that happened to our poor traveler, haha! Do you need some coffee or something?” 

Legend smiled and fluttered a hand in the air as if to dismiss Twilight’s observation. 

“Nah, nah. But I won’t mind a cup.” 

“I can make it for you,” Twilight said, the embarrassment from earlier lingering in his voice.

“Really? Thanks. That’s nice of you. Oh, put some cream in there, if there’s any in this place, I mean. Half a rupee’s weight or so should be good.” 

The gears in Legend’s mind turned violently as Twilight stood up to make the drink for him. Memories started to slowly piece themselves together. Yes -- Hyrule and the beach, he remembered that now. And the whole strange thing with shaving his head. That had certainly been odd. Legend propped his feet up on the table and ran a hand over his face. What had gotten into the traveler recently? If he kept up this recklessness, he might end up getting hurt worse than before. He needed to be a little bit more sensitive to the people around him. He was part of a group now, and he no longer could or should carry the weight of the world on his back. Legend sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Kids these days. 

A chipped cup was placed in front of him, and Legend gave Twilight a grateful wink. He sipped thoughtfully, letting the bland, bitter drink overpower the incessant chattering in his head. It took him a few moments to realize that Twilight had sat down next to him and had been talking the whole while. 

“...how does that sound? We can get going right after you finish your drink.” 

The confusion on Legend’s face must have been apparent, because Twilight sighed and repeated himself. 

“The Wise Man said there’s a seamstress somewhere in the town. We can go there to pick up a tunic for Hyrule and maybe coats for Wind and Four, just so the smaller ones don’t get cold tonight. Might give us something to do while the others take their nap.” 

“Oh, sure,” Legend said, licking a scrim of coffee off his top lip. “That sounds good. We might need the kid to guide us, though,” Legend said, jerking a thumb towards Jilo. The boy was still playing a strange card game with Sky and, based on the intensity at which he stared his deck, he was either winning or losing by a massive margin. 

“Can’t Hyrule give us directions?” Twilight asked. “He would be a fantastic guide, considering that this is his era after all...speaking of Hyrule, has he still not come back from the bathroom? Where is he?” 

Legend shrugged. Twilight’s eyebrows furrowed. The rancher stood up, raised his voice, and repeated his question, this time addressing it to the whole room. The others shook their head, and Legend set his cup down with a clink.

“He might still be upstairs,” the veteran said. “Sick, I think.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Warriors responded from across the room, eyes trained on his annotated map. Time nodded beside him, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. “We’ll need him to lead the first group for the ambush tonight. If he’s sick that might compromise the integrity of the--”

“That’s not the reason this isn’t good,” Twilight interrupted. “He’s sick, and we’ve only got a handful of potions. We don’t even know what he’s sick  _ with _ . Our priority should be getting him a doctor as quickly as possible.”

Warriors reddened. Time placed a hand on the captain’s shoulders and moved to speak, but Jilo cut him off.

“What about the town, then?” the boy asked, dark eyebrows pressed together. There was no intonation at the end of his voice or upwards lilt on the last words. The question fell out of his mouth like a statement, a confession, a white flag in the wind.

Legend’s heart twinged.

“Jilo, I care so much about the town,” Twilight explained, getting out of his chair and taking a seat next to the boy. “But Link won’t be able to help as much as he could if he’s sick.”

“He’s done it before,” the boy retorted, suspicion etched into frown lines that had no place on the face of a five-year-old boy.

“What are you talking about?” Four inquired.

“Link saved my life.” 

Jilo absent-mindedly folded one of his cards in half and stared at the floor, mouth clamped shut as if he had provided all the description necessary.

“What does that have to do with him fighting while sick?” Wind finally questioned.

Jilo chewed his lip and picked at the skin of his knuckles. The Links waited as the boy worked up his courage and strained to catch the boy’s faint, raspy words.

“I got lost. On Maze Island. I was a baby. Link found me. He was de-uh-dehydr--uh….he was really thirsty. And sick. He looked like a stalfos. But he found me and carried me all the way back home. Even though--even though he was sick. Dying.”

The room grew silent. Even the musical tapping of Wind’s boots on the floor stopped.

“He did that just for me.”

The boy looked up with a cool, unshakable confidence glittering behind his eyes. Even though he had no way to articulate it, the room understood his unspoken conviction. If Hyrule would risk his life for a stranger’s child, there was no way they could stop him from doing the same for an entire settlement.

Legend’s grip on his cup faltered, and his drink spilled into his lap. 

He forced himself to ignore how much spilt coffee looked like blood. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

[*-1][*2]

Twilight was exhausted, both mentally and physically. 

It had taken him nearly an hour to convince Jilo to be his and Legend’s guide, and that was only after making an ungodly host of sugar-coated promises. The boy had only agreed to take them to the local seamstress when Sky volunteered to come as well, and he’d refused to talk to anyone but the Skyloftian. 

Twilight sighed and rubbed his neck as he, Legend, Sky, and Jilo walked down Darunia Town’s empty streets. The smell of lunch wafted out of open windows and mingled with the dust, and the now-overcast sky hung a gloomy sheet over everything they passed. The rancher’s eyes flickered to Legend, who was tightening the bandages on his fingers, and drifted back to the little boy holding Sky’s hand. Their conversation was hushed and sugary and laced with inside jokes they had managed to create in the past few hours alone. There was something strange about being usurped as the local child-whisperer by the sleepy Chosen Hero, but he wasn’t upset by it. All things considered, the boy had probably latched onto Sky because he was the most similar to Hyrule in temperament and mannerisms, yet there was none of the reverent shyness Jilo must have felt around the traveler. Twilight smiled wistfully. 

Jilo led the trio of heroes around a sharp bend and stopped in front of a squat stone building. A tarp awning hung out over the front, and a rangy girl perhaps two or three years older than Jilo sat under the shade. Her hair was matted, her cheekbones strained against her skin, and dirt lined the underside of her nails, yet there was an aura of dignity about her as her fingers embroidered a piece of silk with aristocratic grace. The elegance of which she stitched a little white flower into the corner of the cloth attested to the fact that she was either extremely talented, well-trained, or both. Perhaps this was the seamstress’ daughter or protégé?

The three heroes watched on in silence as Jilo approached the girl, then kicked her swiftly in the shins. She yelled and slapped the boy in retaliation. Profanities burst into the air as the two squabbled, and the girl waved her sewing needle in the air each time Jilo got too close.

“Cut that out, Jilo!” Sky commanded. “How could you treat a lady like that?” 

“Don’t worry,” Jilo explained as he dodged an uppercut, “she’s my cousin.” 

“That doesn’t mean you should hit her,” Twilight interjected, crossing his arms. Jilo shot him a venomous stare, but let his hands fall to his sides anyway. “Where’s the seamstress?” Twilight continued, peering into the open doorway behind the girl for any hint of an adult. 

“I’m the seamstress!” the girl exclaimed, jamming a thumb to her sternum. Her face grew triumphant when she saw the look of confusion and surprise on the three heroes’ faces. “The one and only Nula! Don’t like it? Well, dunderheads, you gotta deal with it or get outta my shop!” 

“Pardon me, Ms. Nula,” Twilight began, bowing slightly to the tiny seamstress. “We would like to buy a tunic and some jackets for our friends. Do you have any products like that?” 

The girl squinted and placed her hands on her hips. “Who are you buying the tunic and jacket for?” 

“Does it matter?” Sky asked.

“Well, duh, of course it does! I’m not gonna sell anything to people who’ll turn around and sell it for a higher price. It’s my hard work. Nobody’s gonna make money off it but  _ me _ .” 

Twilight’s eyebrows flickered upwards. It wasn’t the first time he’d met a particularly business-savvy child, but it was always a bit disconcerting to see children thinking with the mind of jaded, middle-aged men. 

“If it would be helpful to know, we’re buying the tunic for Link and h--” 

“Link?” Nula interrupted. Sky and Legend nodded, and the girl’s dusty face cracked into a massive smile. “Alright. You can have your things for free. I don’t charge heroes anything.” 

Twilight’s eyebrows shot up into the place where his hairline used to be. Any previous association he had made between the girl and Malo slipped away from his mind as he watched Nula dart inside the house and emerge with a stack of neatly folded tunics. She set them down on the porch and gave the group a hard stare before pointing at Legend.

“You! You look like you’re Link’s size. Come here.” 

Legend obeyed, sauntering forward and taking a stand next to Nula. The girl gave him an irritated look and tugged at the hem of his tunic. 

“Take it off,” she said. 

“...my tunic?” Legend asked. 

“Um,  _ yes _ ! How are you gonna try on the new ones?” Nula asked.

Sky snickered, and Twilight let out a rumbling, baritone laugh. The veteran glared and flinched when the girl repeated her earlier instruction. 

The scene on the porch grew more and more ridiculous, with Legend’s growing increasingly embarrassed and Nula growing increasingly insistent. Sky watched gleefully, but Twilight found his focus wandering. He crossed his arms and bounced the heels of his boots on the floor, relishing the brief relief it brought to his cramped toes. He  _ really  _ needed to buy new boots at some point… 

His gaze flickered to the floor and noticed a small set of footprints impressed in the dust. They curled around the porch and disappeared in a small alleyway beside Nula’s shop. Twilight bit his lip as he thought. 

Hmm. Who could those belong to?

Oh, wait.

Where was Jilo? 

Only after ensuring the two other heroes were thoroughly occupied did Twilight follow the trail of footprints. They led him through a dingy alleyway beside the shop and around the back, suddenly stopping in front of a small ladder propped against the wall. Twilight took a quick look at his surroundings. A silent, empty clearing of grey dust stood behind him. An equally grey sky hung above the small shop, leering over the flat, unshingled roof.

Was Jilo up there? 

His breathing quickened.

Twilight pressed the ladder up against the wall and clambered upwards, forgetting to breathe until he reached the top. He stepped out on the roof and exhaled audibly when Jilo’s form came into view. The boy was hunched over something, back turned to Twilight, violently muttering under his breath. Twilight took care to make as much noise as possible so his entrance wouldn’t be a surprise and took a seat next to the boy.

“What are you doing, Mr. Jilo?’ Twilight asked. 

The boy’s jaw worked, then grew still. 

“I found a firefly by the porch, so I brought it here,” he said. 

“Oh? Where is it?”

“Right here.” Jilo scooted to the side and pointed to the tiny, lifeless body of the little bug. A mound had been dug right beside it, and a tiny scrap of cloth had been propped next to it in imitation of a little tombstone. 

A few heartbeats of awkward silence passed before Twilight spoke up again.

“Did you kill it?” he asked. 

Jilo gasped. 

“ _ Of course not!  _ Who would  _ ever _ kill a firefly?” The boy turned away from Twilight and cradled the fallen firefly in his hands. His expression grew pained as he brushed his fingers along delicate wings that would never flutter again. Water brimmed in his eyes. “I would never kill a firefly. I can’t believe you would even think that. Haven’t you ever heard the story of the Firefly Princess?” 

“I don’t believe I have. Who’s the Firefly--” 

A scream shot through the air.

[*-2][*3]

**_“MOBLINS! MOBLINS! EVERYONE GET INSIDE!”_ **

The soprano shriek rang out again, and the sound of slamming doors and screaming children exploded around them. Fire and brimstone sizzled through the air, burning Twilight’s lungs and nostrils as he strained to get a better view of the town entrance. 

Oh no. 

_ Oh no.  _

The slap of armor on muscle grew deafening. Countless Moblins stampeded through the town entrance, followed by a flood of -- were those Wizzrobes? His suspicions were confirmed when the same voice from earlier confirmed exactly that.

Jilo whimpered, and Twilight remembered where he was.  _ Who _ he was.

He scooped the boy up in his arms and jumped onto the tarp awning below, thanking Hylia when the fabric held. Tightening his grip around the boy, Twilight backflipped off the tarp and landed with both feet on the floor. Nula’s eyes went wide with relief when they latched onto her cousin’s face, and the other two heroes already had their weapons drawn.

“Everyone, get inside!” Sky commanded, swinging open the shop door and ushering the two children inside. They obeyed without a sound, but tugged on the edge of Sky’s tunic in silent supplication that he join them as well. 

“Protect them,” Twilight said. “We can handle the brunt of the attack.” 

Sky nodded and darted inside the house, taking up position at the shop window and aiming the Gust Bellows in front of him. Smart. If any monsters tried to get too close, he would be in the perfect position to knock them off their feet.

Literally.

“Rancher, are you going to sit around and smile to yourself, or come help out?”

Legend’s irritated voice cut through the clamor. Twilight snapped to attention, latching onto the scene in front of him. A cloud of dust had swelled in front of the town entrance, kicked up by the tawny, flat feet of countless monsters. Veins of fire spread along the faces of wooden buildings. Ash fluttered through the air like snow.

Legend pulled out the Fire and Ice Rods, and Twilight finally realized what the veteran was trying to do. Of course. Attacking from a distance. The space between them and the monsters was their greatest asset. Getting too close to the forefront of the attack was the best way to ensure someone would leave gravely injured, and attacking from afar would be the smartest way to save the town. But...

"We're too low!" Twilight cried, ducking as a fireball grazed above his head. "If we're going to attack them from this far away, we'll need a higher vantage point."

Legend nodded and followed Twilight around the shop and up the tiny ladder. Warriors' authoritative voice echoed in the distance as the two clambered onto the roof. They perched themselves on the roof’s edge; Legend twirled the elemental rods between his fingers and Twilight nocked and drew his bow. The tell-tale shriek of Wild's bomb arrows harmonized with the grunts and clang of metal-on-metal down below, and the two rooftop heroes began their attack. Arrows blistered through the air and Legend’s magic grew thick and smoky. The wave of monsters remained undaunted. 

Someone screamed, and the muffled crying of children grew louder. Twilight’s inhaled sharply.

"Focus!" Legend cried, swinging the Fire Rod and letting loose a gout of crimson flame. "Are you going to release that arrow or not?"

Suddenly aware of the trembling in his shoulders and the nocked arrow pressed against the bow, Twilight drew and released. The arrow sliced through the air, followed by a barrage of its sisters and brothers as the rancher settled into a comfortable rhythm. Fire and ice crackled around him. Twilight exhaled forcefully, pushing the nauseating scent of magic out of his nose. He had to focus. The monsters. There were even more of them than before. Twilight snorted as Legend redoubled his magical attacks.

The Wizzrobes responded with a magical malestorm of their own. Flaring waves of fire shot forth from their fingertips, consuming laundry left out to dry and feeding on the corpses of neglected gardens. Flames sprinted up wooden posts and wreathed the street’s edges.

"Maybe you shouldn't use that," Twilight muttered to Legend, gesturing to the Fire Rod as best he could with two occupied hands. The veteran gaped, then, realizing the wisdom on Twilight's words, cast the Fire Rod to the side. Frost crept along the edges of the roof as Legend’s focus shifted to the Ice Rod, and the Gust Bellows roared to life beneath them as the monsters made their way down the street. Cyan wind burst from the ancient artifact, sweeping the monsters off their feet and giving both overhead heroes the time they needed to nock arrows and blast ice. The fire grew stronger.

"This isn't going to work," Legend panted. His face was white with overexertion, and the bandages on the tips of his fingers had grown a worrisome scarlet. "Look, the Gust Bellows is only spreading the fire more. If the monsters don't take down the town, the fire will."

Legend was right. Walls of flame snickered beneath them, leaping onto thatched roofs and eagerly swallowing the wind the Gust Bellows fed it. Sweat rolled down Twilight's face and darkened the back of his tunic as he shot down another Moblin. The fire climbed higher. His eyebrows scrunched together as he searched for words, but a ghostly whistle cut him off.

Not a whistle, an ocarina. Six crisp, repeating notes glided through the air. A pregnant pause hung in the air before the world lurched to obey the music. Lightning whistled. Thunder boomed. The rain came down in harsh, stinging sheets and washed away the smell of ash and death. 

_ Thank Hylia for the old man. _

Twilight brushed the rain away from his eyes and nocked another arrow, ignoring the fatigue creeping through the muscles in his back. Water poured from the sky, drowning the raging fire as Twilight let another arrow loose. 

Seconds turned to minutes, then to hours. The monsters kept coming. Twilight forced his eyelids apart and bit his lower lip until the taste of metal woke him up. He had to focus. He had to keep going. They were heroes, Hylia’s elect, they would be triumphant. It already looked like they might get the upper hand in this war of attrition -- as long as no one changed tactics or position, they just might win.

A heavenly choir exploded around them, preceded immediately by the obedient snapping and blowing of the wind. Twilight's arrows were knocked uselessly to the side as the air doubled on itself and blasted forwards.

"Is that--" Legend began, pointing at a lanky figure carried by the wind.

"It had better not be," Twilight said, failing to disguise the horror in his voice.

Lightning bristled overhead, illuminating the Korok Leaf billowing over Wind's head. The sailor flew over to the forefront of the attack with a face practically glowing with determination. Half-dead Moblins perked up their heads as Wind let go of the leaf and dropped into the street.

"I have bad news, then," Legend commented. A thousand beady eyes latched onto Wind as the sailor drew his sword and cursed the Moblins’ collective mother with vehemence that put even Legend to shame. Fear shot up Twilight’s legs as countless speartips aimed towards Wind.

"This isn't the time for your stupid witticisms, Legend!" Twilight hissed, slinging his bow over his back and leaping off the edge of the roof. He gracefully rolled onto the floor and sprinted over to Wind, who was quickly realizing his mistake.

Kids these days.

Twilight unsheathed his sword and beat back the Moblins swarming around Wind. The sailor joined in, backflipping and slipping over the spears aimed at him. The earth beneath them rumbled again as lightning and thunder screeched overhead.

When would this be over?

Another slice, another cut, another dive, another Moblin down. Exhaustion constricted around Twilight's brain, and he felt his focus slide. Nothing was working. Arrow after arrow, jab after jab, curse after curse and step after step, and nothing changed. The Moblins sprung from the earth like ants in summer. Each one that died was replaced by twelve of its vengeful brothers.

A blast of ice was his deliverance. With a swing of the ice rod, Legend dashed into the clearing and froze a hoard of Moblins. An iridescent sheet of frost burst from the ground and shielded the two exhausted heroes. 

"I'm sorry," Legend whispered as he darted next to Twilight, "I wasn't trying to be funny or anything. With that thing about Wind, I mean."

Confusion complemented the fatigue sloughing through his veins, and Twilight decided it would be best to simply nod and forget about what happened.

He didn't get the chance to do either.

Lightning struck the ground behind them, melting the wall of ice and sending all three heroes stumbling forward into the unthawed Moblin's arms.

"Wind, watch out!"

Twilight's cry was devoured by a roll of thunder. 

The sailor remained oblivious to the club swinging towards the back of his head. 

Twilight’s body moved on its own accord. His arms knocked Wind backward and pushed him to the floor, and his shoulder crunched as he took the club meant for the sailor. Numbness flooded down his arm as his body crashed on top of Wind's.

Something snapped.

The sailor whimpered.

"Legend!" Twilight screamed, forgetting to apologize to Wind, "Legend, behind you!"

A Moblin three heads taller than all the others loomed behind the veteran, iron spear poised to kill. 

Twilight shrieked again _.  _ Lightning crackled. Twilight forced himself to his feet and immediately collapsed. Wind twitched where he’d fallen, face screwed up in horror and pain. 

“Legend!” Wind cried.

The Moblin snarled and raised its spear above its head. 

For a split second, Twilight could have sworn that the Moblin's eyes were a filmy gold. 

_ “Legend! Legend!  _ **_LEGEND_ ** _!”  _

But the spear never came down. 

[*-3][*4]

The earth’s molten heartbeat shook through the ground beneath them, thrumming in tandem with the thunder. Ripples of vibrations turned into tsunamis, shaking the earth and every structure upon it. The monsters froze. Doors cracked open and window blinds were separated between curious fingers. A thousand beady eyes fastened on a figure standing on a building twice the height of any other.

Lightning. 

Thunder. 

Rain.

Hyrule. 

The lightning snapped again, illuminating Hyrule’s wiry form. His spare tunic whipped around him, and his eyes glowed with spectral deadliness. All the monsters cowered before him.

All except the Moblin with the golden eyes.

Hyrule raised his hands in the air, then slammed them downward as if banging an imaginary drum. 

Thunder shattered around him. 

It shot through the air and pierced through the army of monsters. It swallowed the floor the Moblins stood on, devoured the Wizzrobe’s magical force, filled the townspeople with the knowledge that their hero was  _ their  _ hero. 

Panicked snorting and snarling grew deafening as the monsters scrambled to avoid Hyrule’s cursed thunder. Black magic congealed on the side of the road. Spears fell from cold hands. Fireballs fizzled out. Emboldened, the uninjured heroes unsheathed their swords and beat back the remaining Moblins and Wizzrobes. Legend darted and dashed through the retreating crowd with the Ice Rod in one hand and the Tempered Sword in the other. Twilight hunched over the sailor, swinging his sword at any monster that got too close, body buzzing with energy that wasn’t his own.

The taste of victory was overwhelming as the last Moblin fell and imploded into a cloud of purple ash. 

They won. 

They  _ won.  _

The rain slammed into the earth as Twilight, Legend, and Wind screamed triumphantly. Sky burst out of the shop, Nula and Jilo trailing on his heels, and wrapped the whole group up in his arms. Twilight laughed without restraint as the group dissolved into a sloppy group hug. 

Only Jilo wasn’t smiling. 

“What’s wrong?” Twilight finally asked. “We won.” 

The boy said nothing. He pointed his finger toward the tallest building. Hyrule, backlit by the lightning, stood on the edge with his arms at his sides. The glow was gone from his eyes. 

“I think he’ll be able to get down just fine,” Sky explained. “He’s more than capa---” 

That was when the lightning stuck. 

It bolted and shuddered through the clouds, boiling the air around it. 

It screamed and twisted, falling like the angled blade of a guillotine. 

And it struck Hyrule with the fury of a goddess scorned. 

The traveler’s entire body crackled with blue light, and his eyes went wild with a thousand regrets. Incoherent words spilled from his mouth. He spasmed and stumbled, teetering on the edge of the roof. 

Jilo screamed as Hyrule fell. 

Whips of air lashed at Hyrule’s back. His arms scrambled uselessly in the air, fighting for deliverance, cringing away from the blue electricity that still jolted under his skin. Twilight’s eyes met Hyrule’s for a split second. 

The smallest hint of a regret flickered across the traveler’s face. 

Hyrule thrust his arms below him. Twin pillars of blinding lightning burst from his fingers and crashed into the ground, casting a brilliant wave of light over the whole town. Hyrule’s body was pushed upwards from the sudden force and gently fluttered downward as the magic fizzled out. 

He was safe.

The others moaned with relief. Sky rubbed Wind’s back until he stopped crying, Nula cursed shamelessly, and Twilight forced himself to shamble over to where Hyrule lay. 

Jilo outpaced him, sprinting over to his hero with open arms and teary eyes. He practically collapsed at Hyrule’s side, thanking him so ceaselessly that the words descended into verbal mush. Hyrule tried to stammer out a reply, but the glow in his eyes faded and he fell asleep in the boy’s arms.

The rain came down harder, and Jilo cradled his sleeping firefly until the sun went down. ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I apologize for the long wait, I wanted to get a decent understanding of how to write fight scenes before I jumped into this chapter. I wanted to let you all know that I’ll be going on a writing hiatus for the next two weeks (that doesn’t mean I won’t write, just that I won’t post), but I’ll certainly be answering comments. Don’t be afraid to leave your thoughts down below or any questions you have, I always respond to each and every comment I get! Love you all. Please take care of yourselves, and best of luck to everyone returning to school this month and next. 💜💜💜


	10. The Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule has a story to share. 
> 
> It'll be months before Legend realizes how important it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I’m so happy to return to you with another chapter of this story. I truly hope you all enjoy! Once again, just some small housekeeping things I wanted to address before we jump into the story. 
> 
> 1- This chapter, while it doesn’t explicitly fall into the extreme category as dictated by the LU Server’s rules, does have some disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised. 
> 
> 2- Recommended Vibe(s). We have a LOT for this chapter. Please don’t feel obligated to listen to them, but I would like you all to know that I truly think they will add a lot to the experience (and they may or may not be an auxiliary faucet for foreshadowing ;D) If you don’t recall how the notation system works, please reference the author’s note for Chapter 8! 
> 
> [1*] Sam Smith Sleep Mix (I couldn’t find an extended version, I’m so sorry! But the track is so good that you’ll hopefully be replaying it on your own violation 👀👀) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5acncdn0pA&ab_channel=SamSmithVEVO)  
> [2*] Fourth of July Instrumental - Sufjan Stevens. I highly recommend that you listen to the lyrical version of this piece if you can listen to lyrical music and read at the same time, but I’m going to link the instrumental here. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrZlb_uXu-s&ab_channel=YANTA)  
> [3*] Midna’s Lament - Twilight Symphony Reorchestration (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4F7Sk83kDI&ab_channel=Zzyxal)  
> [4*] Usurper King Zant - Twilight Symphony Reorchestration (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwnMBF-0TAo&ab_channel=Zzyxal)  
> [5*] Hypocrite - Jean-Michel Blais and CFCF (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJiW9NIAROc&list=RDGMEMYH9CUrFO7CfLJpaD7UR85wVMSJiW9NIAROc&start_radio=1&ab_channel=Arts%26Crafts) 
> 
> My endless thanks to everyone who kudos’ed and commented on the last chapter and all the ones before it. I am beyond honored by all the love and support I’ve received, it means the world a thousand times over to me. I hope that this chapter is worth the wait.

[*1: Start ‘Sleep Mix’]

“Don’t pick at your bandages.” 

Legend’s fingers froze over the gauze wrapped around his arms. His eyebrows drew together as Twilight’s words processed in his mind. The cloudy, green paste slathered over his burn wounds peeked between the bandages and plastered his arm hairs together, practically begging for freedom.

“It itches.” 

“Your wounds are almost healed. If you keep poking and prodding at your burns, you’re only going to have to wait longer to take the bandages off for good.” 

The veteran snorted, but Twilight’s logic was indisputable. He let his bandaged arm rest in his lap and kneaded the other one through the plush fabric of the couch he was seated on. The silence was punctuated by the ticking of a wall clock and Wind’s intermittent snores -- how the boy had fallen asleep under a moblin-hide coverlet, of all things, was beyond him. Twilight sat next to Legend on the couch, running his fingers through Wind’s hair and wincing when his shoulder moved too much. While it was true that all three of them had healed astonishingly quickly, the physical residue of the battle two weeks ago still clung to them. 

A breeze came through the open window and ruffled the heavy lace curtains as the smell of incense twirled and spun in the air. The scant light glinted dimly off glass ornaments dotting the table and the plethora of thick, elaborate tapestries hanging from the wall. Considering the rates that the local healers of Darunia Town had charged the group, it made sense why their place was far more elaborate than any other they had encountered in Hyrule’s Hyrule. 

Legend’s mind wandered as the clock droned on and the smell of incense grew nauseating. It was strange that, from a business perspective, the healing ladies had only charged him, Twilight, and Wind for their services. None of them had serious injuries, all things considered -- Wind’s wrists had only been sprained, not broken, and Twilight’s shoulder spica cast had been more of a formality than anything else. Legend looked at the gauze on his arm and snorted; he hadn’t even noticed he had gotten burned during the fight, but his skin was healing quickly and didn’t even threaten to leave a scar. He was mildly disappointed that he would have nothing to show for his trouble, but he supposed the fact that they were all happy and healthy was more than enough. 

Well, most of them, anyway. 

But all things considered, the sensual luxury of this place was the last thing he expected when he learned they were stuck at the healing ladies’ house that night. His mood soured as his mind brooded over the events of the day. Along with Twilight and Wind, he had almost been able to convince the captain and old man that they were healthy and healed enough to join the group for the last ambush. The fact that the captain had even considered it attested to how quickly and how thoroughly all three had healed, yet he denied their request anyway. 

While he would have made the same decision if he was in Warriors’ place, part of him still stung from the rejection. The rest of the group had gone out into the surrounding hills every night, killing off the last of the infected monsters around Darunia Town, while the injured party members had to stay behind. After two weeks of mountain raids and laying traps in nearby canyons, Warriors and Time had confirmed that tonight’s attack would be the last one, and Legend had been confident that he had healed enough to join them. 

“I guess not,” he grumbled to himself. 

“Still brooding?” Twilight murmured. “I wish I was with them too. It feels wrong to be sitting down in this fancy place while the others are out fighting.” The rancher ran a hand over his head, now darkened with tall, dirty-blond stubble. “But I’m glad we’ll get to spend the time with Hyrule.” 

Legend paused, eyebrows drawn together, then nodded in agreement. The traveler had been rushed to the healing house right after the town ambush and had been receiving intensive treatment the past few days, and, as such, the group saw him only sporadically. The veteran had a sneaking suspicion that Warriors had made them say for the sole purpose of keeping Hyrule entertained, which, in reality, wasn’t an endeavour that needed three people. 

“They say he hasn’t gotten better,” Twilight continued. “Thank goodness they aren’t charging us anything for his treatment, or we’d be broke.” 

“Free medical care is a bonus that comes with saving the world, I guess,” Legend said. The rancher chuckled in agreement and opened his mouth to speak before another voice cut him off. 

“Oh, you’re already here!” 

The quick pitter-patter of small feet on wooden stairs echoed through the room. The healer gave the boys a quick smile as she trotted down the stairs, her ratty hair scraped into a bun and her intelligence in her eyes hidden behind layers of crumpled skin. Yet the deftness of which she set a pot of water to boil and set about making yet another healing potion spoke to her expertise, and Legend subconsciously relaxed.

“Thank goodness you arrived, gentlemen! Link’s been asking to see you all nonstop.” The woman sprinkled a few herbs into the pot of boiling potion and closed the lid. “He’s so worried about you all, doesn’t want to believe you’re alright until he sees each of you.”

“Should we go up?” Legend asked, eyes trailing upstairs. One of the pink doors was slightly ajar, and the veteran could almost feel the traveler’s electric presence behind it. His heart softened, and he was suddenly grateful for the captain’s decision to leave them behind. 

“You can’t see him yet, no. My granddaughter is giving him another physical examination, but she’ll be finished in a moment. In all honesty, it’s more for her good than his. Goddesses, what am I going to do when I hand the business over to her? She’s always on edge, expecting the worst in everything, looking for the armos in a field of statues. Just yesterday she was trying to tell me that the little one’s wrists wouldn’t heal!” 

Wind shuffled in his sleep. Twilight placed the cool back of his hand against the sailor’s flushed skin, smiling when Wind leaned into it. 

“I understand her paranoia, though,” Legend said, watching curiously as the potion bubbled over the fire. “She may just be afraid of expecting too much.” 

“It’s a fireflight night,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “Perhaps that’s why she’s so excitable. But, really, when she tries to tell me that your minor burn scars are going to leave your arm with irreparable damage and that Link’s fever is going to paralyze him, I get worried about the places her mind takes her.” 

“He redirected lightning, I think it’s going to take a lot more than a cough and fever to take him down,” Twilight added. The group nodded in agreement. 

Wind snored, the clock ticked, and the potion bubbled. 

All was well in the kingdom of Hyrule. 

“The patient is ready to see you all,” A fourth voice whispered from the second floor, breaking the lull hanging over the room.

All eyes turned to the top of the staircase. The healer’s granddaughter blushed at the sudden attention, then shyly beckoned them upstairs, her gestures barely visible from the heavy shadows. She left the pink door open behind her as she retreated into the room, soon to be followed by Twilight, Legend, and a now-very-awake Wind. 

From the tiny glimpse of the room Legend had stolen from downstairs, it seemed like a dark, dreary place -- as most sickrooms were wont to be -- and in a secret place, he had been dreading his entrance.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

The tension and stress weighing on Legend’s shoulders dissipated the moment he stepped in the room. Wispy, soothing heat from the fireplace warmed the stone floor. The smell of roses and vanilla drifted around the room, pushed around by the cool breeze from the half-open window. Twilight, Wind, and Legend, at the woman’s request, sat down on the nearest pieces of furniture. Their bodies jerked reflexively as they sunk into the plush cushioning, then relaxed as it pressed against the sore points in their back. 

A few heartbeats of silence echoed through the floorboards before all eyes turned to the center of the room.

“We missed you, traveler,” Twilight confessed to the figure propped up on the bed.

Light from the dying sun spilled into the room and glinted off the innumerable, paper-thin silk sheets draped over the bed frame. 

And in the low, scant light, Hyrule almost looked healthy. 

“I--” 

“Hero, please! Please, please don’t exert yourself. Here, let me help you,” the healer’s granddaughter said, frantically reorganizing the pillows stacked around Hyrule to better support him. In a spurt of foresight, she lit a tiny oil lamp and set it on the stand beside the traveler. After ensuring that the hero was properly swaddled in pillows, she made a move to excuse herself out of the door. “Nobody talk to him or make him talk until Grandmother comes back with the potion,” she warned. “The potion will help with the soreness in his throat and make it less painful for him to speak.” 

Before any questions could be asked, the girl darted out of the room and slammed the door behind her. They all winced, Legend excluded, and turned their attention back to the incredibly awkward air in the room. 

“We’ve been so worried about you, Hyrule!” Wind exclaimed. 

“You’re all our sailor thinks about these days,” Twilight added. 

The figure on the bed made a soft, chortling noise that quickly devolved into guttural coughing. Twilight’s eyes drew wide, and Wind cringed at the noise. 

“We knew you’d be alright,” Legend said. “Good Hylia, I remember the way you redirected that lightning earlier -- if that can’t knock you out, nothing can. Probably the coolest thing I’ve seen in years, if I’m going to be honest.” 

The strain in Twilight’s eyes faded in agreement, and the coughing took on a grateful undertone. 

A gust of wind blew through the room as the door swung open. The healer toddled in with a tray laden with an assortment of fruits, pastries, drinks, and a massive bottle filled with bright pink potion. After handing off the potion bottle to Hyrule and ensuring that he was nursing it bit by bit, she shoved the tray under each guest’s nose until they graciously selected a few snacks. Confident that her guests were seated and fed, the healer made her leave and gently closed the door behind her.

Legend fiddled with the pastry in his hand, rubbing his finger over the sugary coating and watching the translucent granules fall to the floor. Wind and Twilight sporadically nibbled on their confectionaries and chatted with the bedridden hero. After a few minutes of one-sided conversation, Hyrule set the finished potion bottle on the nightstand and wiped away a scrim of fuschia from his upper lip. 

“...I missed you guys,” he whispered. The sound was scratchy and thin, but three pairs of pointed ears perked up at the noise regardless. 

“I knew it! You  _ can  _ still talk!” Wind exclaimed. 

“Don’t force yourself to speak if it’ll only make your throat hurt more,” Legend advised. Hyrule nodded obediently. 

“How have you been?” Twilight asked. 

“I’ll be honest,” Hyrule began, his voice slowly growing stronger and clearer as he continued on. “I’m tired, my head hurts, and my legs sting, but now that you guys are here I can forget that.” He coughed. “How have you guys been?” 

“Sad!” Wind asserted. “I missed you! I missed you so much, I was so so scared when that lightning hit you. It was so cool how you, like, changed its direction, but I was so worried about you! Even though the lightning didn’t hurt you, I’m sure fighting in the rain like that is the reason you’re extra-sick.” 

“Uh, I’m sorry, I--” 

Hyrule’s mouth snapped shut in surprise as Wind crawled up onto the bed. The sailor left a respectful amount of room between himself and the traveler, curling up a few hand-lengths away, yet his fingers laid by Hyrule’s side in silent invitation. 

The traveler took the sailor’s hand in his own and didn’t let go. 

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Legend said, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. Hyrule giggled, then let out a soft  _ “oh” _ of surprise as the bed sunk under Twilight’s weight. 

“What, you aren’t going to hold my hand?” Twilight asked. The traveler apologized automatically, then, processing the question, laughed and extended his hand to the rancher. Legend made a comically petulant face as Twilight took Hyrule’s hand. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Legend said. Hyrule’s face scrunched up in thought before he rocked his feet from under the blanket. 

“You can hold my foot!” 

Legend said nothing, then burst into obligatory laughter. Twilight and Wind snickered alongside him as Hyrule’s face illuminated with delight. The veteran gave Twilight a friendly punch in the shoulder. The rancher reflexively responded with a slog five times as forceful. Legend toppled off the bed, much to the delight of everyone else sitting on it, and landed on the floor with a resolute  _ thonk.  _

“Man overboard!”

“Goodness, you hit him really hard...” 

“Well, he deserved it.” 

“Haha, no he didn’t!” 

“Wait, guys,” Legend said, trying to talk over the laughter. He reached under the bed and pulled out what looked like a small container of paper cards. When inspected against the lamplight, Legend confirmed the mysterious artifact to be exactly what he expected it to be. He plopped himself back on the bed and asked if anyone wanted to play. 

“I haven’t played this game in ages,” Hyrule said, taking the cards from Legend’s hands and spreading them across the bed. “Maybe I still remember? Wait, yeah, I think I do.” 

It turned out, in fact, that Hyrule did not remember. A few minutes of stunted, shoddy explanation and one very confusing round of cards later, the rest of the group stumbled upon the same realization. The game slowly descended into chaos as Hyrule’s instructions became contradictory and as Wind grew more and more upset with the fact that, as soon as he got points, he lost them again. 

“I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with this game,” Twilight finally concluded. The others set their cards down, unwilling to admit the fact but still in silent agreement. 

“How about we tell stories?” Wind asked. 

Legend snorted, still frustrated that his accumulation of several dozen points was for nothing. “Stories? Why stories?” 

“Why not?” Hyrule responded. His dark eyes drifted to the window. “It’s a lovely night.” 

“I can go first!” Wind exclaimed. He cleared his throat as the others reclined into listening positions, or as much as they could with their casts, bandages, and fevers. “Are you guys ready?” 

Hyrule nodded. Twilight and Legend whispered something along the affirmative as they pushed their cards away and turned their focus to the sailor. 

“This is a story a good friend told me every night when I was on my second adventure. It’s a very special story to him, and he made me memorize it for times like this.” Wind waited until he was sure all eyes in the room were fixed on him before he continued. “A long, long time ago, there was a powerful and handsome ship captain. He had a long, luscious beard, and intelligent, brooding eyes, and wherever he would go, all the ladies would say ‘ooo-laa-laa!’ One day, he met a little boy dressed in green, and they went around to these strange islands together. He took care of the boy like his own son -- even though he felt no such affection for him -- and he eventually became the captain’s much-trusted sidekick. With the boy at his side, the captain saved the high seas from many scourges and blights. As thanks for all his good deeds and dedication, the world promised to forever remember the brave captain’s name!” 

Wind thrust his hands in the air with a grandiose sense of finality, and let them flutter downward in imitation of rainfall. Confused glances were bounced around the three audience members before Legend asked what they were all wondering. 

“So? What was his name?” 

“Hmm,” Wind said, his face contorted in thought. “That’s weird. Now that I think about it, Linebeck never told me.” 

“I have a better story,” Twilight said, his grin toothy and sarcastic. Legend’s ears piqued upwards, and Hyrule’s own mimicked the action. “It’s a story about love and loss, night and day, unrequited love and the nameless boundaries that break the worldy’s hearts..” 

Legend rolled his eyes. The rancher was in a poetic mood again.

“Bah, those stories are all the same. I wanna hear something happy, if you please,” he said. 

“Guys, just let Twilight say his love story,” Wind said, crossing his arms. “There’s no way it’s better than mine, but at least it’ll pass the time.” Hyrule said something in agreement, and Legend eventually relented. 

“Alright, farm boy, show us what you’ve got,” the veteran challenged. 

“Gladly,” Twilight said. “Once, there two kingdoms, thousands of worlds apart yet united by the hands that created them. The second kingdom befell a terrible curse, and the princess of that realm was doomed to watch her land and her people waste away. Yet a humble servant from the first kingdom came to her aid and helped her save her people. This servant was a simple man, without much intellect or skill, comedy or charisma, but he was honest, and that was all the princess needed. During their journey, they became close. She would tell the humble servant stories of her home, of her worries, even of her dreams and the things she thought about after the sun had set. The servant grew fond of her quick wit and intelligence, and quickly forgot his place. On the day that their journey came to its end, the servant made a horrible decision.” 

Wind inhaled sharply. Legend leaned in. Hyrule’s eyes widened as Twilight lowered his voice and continued on. 

“The servant let himself fall in love with the princess.” 

Wind gasped. Legend snorted and placed his hand on his chin, taking great pains to communicate his sudden disinterest. 

“Yet there was no room for their love to blossom,” Twilight said, clutching his hands to his chest. Wind let out a brokenhearted sigh as the rancher lamented on. “They were forever split apart by the laws of space and time, and the princess returned to her world without giving the servant another look. It took many years for the servant to realize his mistake, and they say that, to this day, he still doesn’t understand his insignificance.” 

“No, you can’t tell me that’s the ending!” Wind protested, eyes wide and hands pressed to his mouth.

Twilight nodded his head sadly and let a small pout settle on his lips. Even though his words dripped with melodrama and theatrical heartbreak, Legend noticed the flicker of sorrow under the rancher’s features. 

The veteran’s heart splintered under the realization that there was far more truth than tale in the rancher’s story. He gave Twilight a quick tap on the knee and followed it up with an inquisitive, knowing stare, unsurprised when the other turned away from the understanding in Legend’s eyes.

“How about you?” Wind asked, gesturing to Legend. Hyrule was half-way through adding a  _ “do you have any stories of your own?”  _ before his words crumbled into a rattling cough. The others winced in sympathy and turned to the veteran. 

Legend set his face in his trademark, disinterested mask and picked at the bandages on his arm. Twilight slapped his hand away, and Legend rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t have any stories to tell,” the veteran said at last. “Nothing worth telling, anyway.” 

The disappointment in the air was palpable. Hyrule picked the potion up from the nightstand and drained the last few drops, smiling as whatever magic swirling around in the fuschia liquid took effect. The dim lamplight didn’t reach his face. In fact, now that he thought about it, Legend hadn’t been able to get a good look at the traveler the entire time they had been visiting. A prickle of fear shuddered underneath his skin, but he shook it away. 

Just judging from his movements and his speech, the traveler appeared to be doing alright. 

“I have a story I want to tell,” Hyrule said at last. A beam of moonlight shot through the room and illuminated the traveler’s dark, forgiving eyes. The veteran shivered under the intensity of Hyrule’s stare and tried to smile it off. 

“What’s it about?” Twilight asked. 

“You might want to get settled first,” Hyrule said, gesturing to the bedrolls stacked in the corner of the room. “It’s a long story, and I want you all to be comfortable while I tell it.” 

The others obeyed, grabbing bedrolls and uncurling them at different spots around Hryrule’s bed. Legend was just about to tuck himself under his covers when Hyrule coughed and made another request. 

[*-1][*2]

“It’s a firefly night,” Hyrule said. “Would someone be able to open up the window all the way?”

“Sure,” Legend said, pulling himself to his feet. He made his way to the windows and pulled the heavy, cloth blinds up, smiling subconsciously as a cool, clean breeze swept through the room. Fireflies fluttered into the room, tiny specks of gold and green, and rested at Hyrule’s feet. 

The world was still, and the firefly light illuminated the tear tracks on Hyrule’s face. 

“...have you guys ever heard the story of the Firefly Princess?” 

“I haven’t,” Wind said. The other two heroes echoed his sentiment. Hyrule leaned against his army of pillows and swallowed a shaky breath of air. 

“I suppose I have the honor of telling it, then,” the traveler said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Many many years ago, a terrible illness ravaged the great land of Hyrule. The proudest chariot horses died in their stalls, famous merchants perished in their boats, and each member of the royal family grew sick and wasted away. The kingdom was thrown into anarchy. Farmers that refused to share their crop had their fields burned and their barns looted, the strong and young died in the arms of Hyrule Field, and Castle Town turned into a graveyard overnight. Monsters grew fat off the blood of Hylians and destroyed towns that hadn’t been torched by wild mobs, and the kingdom lost its faith and favor with the Goddesses. Yet there was still one faithful devotee of Hylia and The Three. She wasn’t a princess, noble, or even a merchant, only a farmer’s daughter. She prayed to the goddesses for her kingdom’s deliverance from the sickness every day. Even when it seemed like the goddesses had forgotten her prayers, she worked hard to bring health and happiness to the people around her. 

“She had only three possessions, an octorok-hide cloak, a mirror, and a jar of magical fireflies. One day, when it was raining, she met an old, sick man on the road, shivering from the rain. She gave him her cloak before he even asked for it, and carried on her way. The next day, she met a group of orphaned children huddling in the woods, trying, in vain, to start a campfire. She cracked the mirror and gave it to the eldest, who used the shards to start a fire and keep his brothers and sisters alive that night. 

“And so it came to be that her jar of fireflies was her last possession. She loved the fireflies dearly, yet she always left the bottle off in case they wished to leave. But they never did. They knew that the farm girl loved them, so they loved her in return. 

“But one day, the farmer’s daughter found her eldest brother on the side of the road, beaten up and left for dead by highway robbers. He had never been a good brother to her and never once cared about her well being, but she loved him anyway. She knew that her dying brother didn’t have a friend in the world, so she gave him her jar of fireflies. The fireflies kept him company that night, telling him stories and letting him taste friendship for the first time in his life, and the brother died with a smile on his face. Heartbroken at the death of their friend, the fireflies died as the sun rose, and the farmer’s daughter was all alone in the world. 

“Her grief overwhelmed her, and she begged the goddesses to take her away to paradise. It was then that they remembered the great devoutness and faithfulness of the farmer’s daughter, and the Goddesses decided to pay her back tenfold for her sacrifices. Hylia came to her in a dream and blessed her with the wisdom, power, courage, and beauty of a princess, breathed life back into the ghosts of her fireflies, and filled her heart with hope. She awoke in a palace, dressed in the most beautiful, luxurious dress, to find that her kingdom had been freed from the scourge that plagued it. The farmer’s daughter became known as the Firefly Princess, and her army of fireflies became heralds of hope across the nation.” 

The fireflies flickered like diamonds in the pitch-black room, reflecting in the watery depths of Hyrule’s eyes. A tiny bug landed on the traveler’s finger and cast a greenish circle of light on the silk sheets. 

“It’s taboo to hurt or maim fireflies here. They’re our omens of hope, you see. We don’t have much else to hold on to, so when the Goddesses send us a promise for better days, we cherish it.” 

Twilight and Legend were lost for words, eyes wide with wonder as the sickroom ceiling became a living, swirling galaxy of fireflies. Only Wind’s soft snoring interrupted the awed silence. 

“How do you know this story so well?” Legend asked. The curiosity in his eyes was almost as luminous as the bugs flying about the room. 

“It was my favorite story as a child. I decided to memorize it, just in case I ever met someone who needed a little bit of hope or encouragement. Listen, guys, things change. Things get better. If my countrymen are able to make something out of this existence, we all can.” 

Hyrule, Twilight, and Legend faded back into companionable silence, lying on their pillows and letting the enormity of being safe lull them to sleep. The night grew darker, the fireflies grew brighter, the air grew colder and their blankets grew warmer. A few minutes passed before a soft, partially-inhaled snort echoed in the room, betraying the fact that Twilight had joined Wind in the land of dreamers. 

Legend felt his own eyelids growing leaden when the door creaked open and a triangle of light spilled into the room. The healer’s granddaughter crept in and tiptoed forward, whispering something urgently to the traveler. He inclined his ear, then groaned loudly.

“It’ll only take you a few minutes, Hero. But if your bowel movements aren’t regular, you might have to deal with intestinal blockage on top of your fever.” 

“I don’t have a problem using the bathroom, ma’am,” Hyrule responded, his voice low and mortified. “I just -- please, I don’t need a chaperone. Don’t waste your time on me. I can sit and stand just fine. It’s not like I’ll fall over or something.” Hyrule turned away and added as an afterthought, “and it’s very embarrassing as well.” 

The argument grew heated, and Legend listened with flattened ears. Although he understood the woman’s concern, did it not cross her mind that the traveler was perhaps one of the most capable men in this entire kingdom? Even when in the compromised state he was in now, he didn’t need a chaperone to the bathroom and most  _ certainly  _ not an assistant. An idea blossomed at the back of his mind. He pushed off his blankets and stood by the foot of the bed, waiting for the two others to notice his presence.

“I promise, I -- oh!” Hyrule flinched as his eyes met Legend’s. “Ah. Aren’t you tired? Why don’t you get some rest?” 

“I’ll take him,” the veteran volunteered, ignoring Hyrule’s question. “Perhaps he’ll be more comfortable with me.” 

Even in the near-absolute darkness, the horror on Hyrule’s face was palpable. 

“Oh no, no, nonononononononononononononono--” 

“That would be wonderful!” the healer’s granddaughter said. “All you need to do is accompany him to the bathroom and hold him up over the chamber pot -- it’s a bit difficult for him to sit on his own with all the bandages around his hips and back. Make sure to ask him what’s comfortable and what isn’t as well! Whatever this fever is, it makes him bruise easily, so I would encourage you to treat him like you would a delicate piece of glass.” 

Hyrule pulled the bed sheets over his head and muttered unintelligibly underneath. 

“Got it,” the veteran replied, pulling the sheets away from Hyrule and lifting the traveler to his feet. The boy slumped against him, wincing as his atrophied muscles sparkled in protest, and refused to meet his eyes. Once the healer’s granddaughter was fully convinced that the veteran was a reliable chaperone, she disappeared out the door and made her way downstairs. 

The hallway to the bathroom was dingy and quiet. Wall-mounted candles flickered and cast sickly haloes of yellow light on the equally yellow wallpaper. The wooden floorboards creaked underneath them as they made slow progress to the room at the end of the hall. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” Hyrule said at last. If his words weren’t enough to convince Legend of the fact, the strangled, hushed way the traveler said them would have been. “Please, don’t do this. I’m fine.” 

“I know you are,” the traveler said at last. “That’s why I’m not going in there with you. I’ll wait outside in case you need anything, but I know that you’re more than capable of handling yourself. I saw you during that battle. You’re tough. You don’t need all of this coddling, do you?” 

Hyrule’s face grew almost iridescent with joy. The stubble on his head, glinting gold and white from the candlelight, stuck out at odd angles and looked almost as elated and surprised as its owner. 

“Are you serious?” Hyrule asked. 

Legend pushed open the bathroom door and ushered Hyrule inside, then lingered by the threshold. His smile spoke for him. 

“I’ll be right here if you need anything,” Legend said. He gently closed the door and sat next to it, fiddling with the fringes of his tunic as he waited. 

_ ‘It took many years for the servant to realize his mistake, and they say that, to this day, he still doesn’t understand his insignificance.’ _

Legend’s heart twisted in memory of the rancher’s words. He tried to scowl away the sympathy, but it only blistered his skin further. 

_ Twilight, who broke your heart? _

The veteran ran his hands through his hair and pulled his bangs back. 

He was two weeks clean. Two weeks. Two weeks clean. He didn’t need it. He could figure this out with his words. He was smart enough, he could do that. 

But an idea, a thought, an ink spill on ivory parchment seeped into his mind. 

_ What better way to understand? To see him as he sees himself, to see the failures juxtaposed against triumphs...the mirror isn’t intrinsically bad. Remember that talk it gave the other day? It can’t be bad. So that means there’s a way to use it responsibly… _

Legend’s hand moved instinctively to his belt, and his eyebrows shot upwards when the mirror’s cool metal pressed against his fingers. 

He hadn’t said the fusion spell. 

He hadn’t even brought the mirror with him. 

_ It’s a firefly night, a hopeful night. This is an omen from the Goddesses. _

Something in the bathroom fell and was quickly followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Legend sighed and bowed his head. This was his burden to bear, his blessing, his curse, his opportunity to help a group of men that deserved nothing less than the entire world. Even if part of him still protested against it, there was nothing to do when he was virtually under direct order from the goddesses to help.

Excitement trilled through his veins.

_ “Legend! Legend, help!”  _

The veteran stood up, deaf to the cries coming from the door behind him, and crept back into the bedroom. 

The darkness was almost suffocating, and something crunched underneath his feet as he padded over to Twilight’s bedroll. A smattering of fireflies hung from the walls, sprinkling tiny beads of light underneath them. Legend bit back the breath in his lungs as he crouched beside Twilight and drew out the mirror. 

And, as he expected, its glass was pitch black. 

The mirror was awake. 

Legend panned the artifact over Twilight’s head, waiting for the deep, staticy, rusty voice to blossom in his ears. 

_ “Do you wish to see this hero through his own eyes?”  _

Legend nodded slowly, somberly, waving farewell to his two weeks of sobriety. The soft, courageous heart of a martyr burned within him. 

He tried to ignore the adrenaline buzzing under his tongue and chest. 

[*-2][*3]

The mirror’s glass grew even darker, and the muscles in Legend’s eyes mutinized against his command to look away. There was a heaviness in the glass that oozed forth and poured onto the floor like sheets of malice, eating away the leather of his boots and the cloth of his tunic. Something was wrong. Something was missing. The oscillating, urgent, almost pompous brilliance that accompanied his descent into other visions was entirely absent, replaced with an aristocratic hunger Legend couldn’t tear himself away from. 

His body crumpled under the mirror’s call. His consciousness folded beneath him and slid into the mirror, his stomach plummeted into his groin, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He tried to breathe but found his chest filled with water, and opened his eyes to see a brilliant sheet of water caustics glinting before him. 

His legs moved once, twice, before he felt the water rushing around him. He righted himself and swam upwards, astonished at the pressure on his shoulders and the aching in his lungs. 

The visions were getting more and more vivid. 

How  _ fascinating _ . 

The golden water slogged through his fingers like molasses, and he broke the surface with a massive gasp. With greedy, relieved breaths, he pulled himself out of the amber lake and wrung the water out of his hair. 

His breath retreated back into his lungs as he took in the scene in front of him. 

A kingdom of twilight stretched before him, dripping with gold and amber. Inky, rectangular raindrops fell upwards into the sky, and the ground was laced with veins of cyan. Dusk hung in the air like smog, bitter and reflective as a storybook villain. He took a few unsure steps in front of him before his bare feet registered the frigid, slippery ground he walked on. Had the mirror even gone as far as to simulate the sensation of snow? Legend looked below him, a smile already on his face, and gasped when his own reflection stared back at him. 

The surface of the entire world was a vast, black mirror. His reflection mimicked his expression of shock, then trailed on his heels as he explored the abyss of Twilight’s mind. 

A familiar urgency constricted around his heart, but he brushed it away. Perhaps he had been in a rush in times past, but, since he had  _ promised  _ himself this was the last time he would commune with that accursed mirror, he might as well enjoy the ride. 

His reflection grinned beneath him. 

The golden hills rose and crashed around him, yet Legend paid them no need. Even a landscape as otherworldly as this one lost its novelty when the expectation of something far greater weighed on his heart. Legend’s feet moved faster over the glistening, black mirror beneath him, picking up speed when a distant figure came into view. 

A chill of disappointment shuddered under his veins as he took it all in. 

There, on a glittering, emerald hill, stood the most majestic looking version of Twilight he had ever seen. 

A breeze of unknowable origin tousled the ghost’s short, dirty-blond hair. Its dark green tunic strained against the muscles underneath, and a furious, deadly look was set hard into the lines around its face. Its forehead marking glowed cyan, and the crystal around its neck twinkled in the perpetually-dying light. 

The ghost was a lone, courageous wolf in a world steeped in twilight. 

Even though Legend was crestfallen that Twilight’s vision was almost identical to Wind’s, he couldn’t stifle the respect bubbling in his throat. Perhaps it was the way that the ghost’s hands rested over the Master Sword, or the determination in its eyes, or the confident arc of its back, but the amount of raw power that emanated from the figure on the hill was overwhelming. 

Twilight had a much healthier perception of himself than the Legend had originally thought. 

The veteran’s heart sunk for a reason he couldn’t explain. He tapped his foot against the glass ground and asked aloud for the mirror to terminate the vision, but nothing happened. A familiar prickle of impatience skittered along his spine before the implication of the mirror’s refusal hit him. 

**_There is still more to see._ **

Legend’s jaw slackened as an ocean of shadows rushed to the ghost’s side. They grew tall and omniscient around its, great curtains of black whose juxtaposition only further illuminated the Hero of Twilight’s glory. 

The facade held for a heartbeat, a breath, a flutter of eyelids, before it cracked. 

Four figures emerged from the darkness, living, breathing shadows that stared at Legend with empty eyes. Legend’s eyes widened in recognition as the shadows coalesced into horribly familiar figures. 

One took the shape of the little, sleepy eyed boy from Twilight’s village. 

The second morphed into the Princess Zelda of his era, Dusk. 

The third hardened into a grotesque impression of The Hero of Time _.  _

The fourth shadow cooled into an impossibly tall, slender figure who could only be the woman from the rancher’s story. 

Twilight’s Princess. 

[*-3][*4]

The world exploded into a choir of petrified violins. The mirror beneath Legend’s feet shuddered with discordant music as the shadows crept closer to Twilight’s ghost, and a familiar dread seized the veteran by the heart.

Legend watched silently as the first shadow, the boy, grazed his inky fingers against the ghost’s knees. The muscles underneath evaporated. Skin sunk and wrapped around bone as the ghost bent forward, forced to lean its weight on the Master Sword’s pommel. With a hiss, the shadow melted into the ground.

The second shadow stepped forward and placed a single, slender finger to the back of the ghost’s hand. A discordant screech of metal on metal erupted as a triangular birthmark extricated itself from the ghost’s hand and imploded in the air. The mark on the ghost’s head smouldered even brighter as the courage left its eyes. As the aghast veteran slowly processed the scene in front of him, Princess Zelda’s shadow dissipated into the dusky air. 

Legend wanted to turn away when Time’s macabre shadow materialized behind Twilight’s ghost, but his eyes remained fixed in front of him. The shadow’s fingers grazed the edge of the ghost’s tunic before spilling across the threads and rotting them from the inside. Gone was the brilliant, proud emerald of the hero’s tunic, now replaced by a sheet of hardened, fetid cloth. The Master Sword turned to bronze and shrunk into itself, crumbling into a thin, rusted spine of copper. 

No strength, no courage, no glory was left in the ghost. 

What did the ghost still have that fourth shadow could possibly take away? 

Twilight’s Princess stepped forward and curled her fingers around the ghost’s chin. It crumpled to one knee in almost ironic mimicry of a marriage proposal, chin still elevated in the shadow’s elegant grip, eyes dripping with blind devotion. A single tear fell from the shadow’s face and onto the ghost’s bottom lip.

And Twilight’s ghost shattered. 

The shards of glass exploded in every direction. Obsidian blades cut through the air and sliced the skin over Legend’s cheekbone. The ground beneath trembled and cracked. Indigo malice cascaded upwards from the cracks, and the last thing Legend heard was Twilight’s distraught howl. 

The veteran reached through the purple fog, matching Twilight’s sobs with that of his own, and slipped forward into the void. 

[*-4][*5]

His consciousness slammed into his body, and the Legend stumbled backwards. The mirror fell from his fingertips and clattered to the floor. His cheekbone stung. Something wet trickled down from the cut. 

His fingertips were bleeding again. 

With a breathless groan, Legend collapsed at Twilight’s side. He watched as the rancher’s chest rose and fell peacefully, and he wrapped the rancher’s hand in his own. 

A single drop of blood fell from his cheek and onto Twilight’s bottom lip, splattering into the shape of a tiny, broken heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please don't be afraid to leave any questions, comments, or theories you have down below. I respond to each and every comment I get as soon as I finish the outline for the next chapter (just so that I can ensure I don't accidentally spill too much information in my responses). Also, if you have any constructive criticism, I would love to hear it! 
> 
> Also, to the wonderful, incredible people who do leave comments, I want you all to know that you are never obligated to leave any comments or kudos. I write this fic because I have a story I want to share. Please, it would break my heart if I found out that you somehow felt like you had to leave a response or a kudos or such, you don't owe me anything at all. I just really hope you enjoyed the last chapter and the ones to come. Please stay safe, everyone! 💜💜💜


	11. The Drawing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule is ashamed. 
> 
> Warriors grow suspicious. 
> 
> And another magical artifact is abused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand I’m back with another chapter! I really hope you guys enjoy this one. It was originally supposed to be over 8K words, but I took out the last scene and moved it to Chapter 12, so hopefully this will be more palpable of a read XD 
> 
> Some housekeeping things before we begin: 
> 
> 1- This chapter has some disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised. 
> 
> 2- Recommended vibes! Here we go!! See the author’s notes in Chapter 8 for description of how the notation works.
> 
> [*1] NF - Let You Down Instrumental (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E859KlHbN98&ab_channel=BlurrMusic)  
> [*2] AURORA - The Seed Instrumental (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPk89HcXupk&ab_channel=luisdavid)  
> [*3] The King - Tony Anderson  
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFMdmvwPx9g&ab_channel=TonyAnderson-Topic)  
> [*4] Butterflies (Piano Sonata) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDJrSunrf3k&ab_channel=TonyAnderson-Topic) 
> 
> Alrighty! Let’s get into it, then!

[*1: Start ‘Let You Down’]

No.

Hyrule heaved in a rattling breath, ignoring how the cool tile prickled against his forearms and the soft flesh of his stomach. Glass sighed and crunched around him as he pulled himself onto his elbows. His lungs stung. His vision was heavy. Thick rivers of crimson gushed from the cuts in his hand, and glass sparkled around the wounds.

Nononononononononononono.

A constellation of glass dust wafted around him as he pulled himself to his feet. His throat burned from the sharp air, his feet sparkled with pain as the full weight of his body settled on them. His trousers slipped from his waist, too heavy to hang from the somber angles of his hip bones, and pooled uselessly at his ankles. A thousand copies of his jaundiced, bony torso leered at him from the shattered mirror on the wall.

“Legend!”

Silence.

Hyrule coughed. Something hot and red bubbled in his mouth and trickled down his chin.

“Legend...Legend!”

Oh Hylia please Hylia please please don’t say he left me here Hylia please please please please Hylia please don’t say he’s gone please don’t say he--

His fingers pressed against the door, and it swung open on squealing hinges.

The hallway was empty.

No.

He stumbled out into the darkened hallway, pulling up his pants at the last second. The floorboards cackled under his weight. Wind hissed through the windows. Powdery clouds of glass stirred from within the bathroom. Blood trickled down the punch mark in the middle of the wall-mounted mirror.

_...drip...drip...drip..._

Pain tasted like broken mirrors and bloody knuckles.

He swallowed the tang anyway and forced himself down the hall.

Hyrule pushed himself forward, stumbling across the landing and resting his hand on the bedroom doorknob. Flakes of pink paint peeled off the wood and fluttered through the air like fireflies. A silvery flush of nighttime air sighed through the house and pushed open the bedroom door. 

Hyrule blinked once, then twice, and his heart sunk within him.

No.

_No._

_No this isn't happening no it's fake I'm dreaming no I haven't no he didn't I didn't no Hylia oh Hylia Hylia why Hylia I don't understand Hylia please tell me this didn't happen don't tell me I failed him again Hylia forgive me FORGIVE ME oh Hylia why no no no it's not no it's happening again no nonono oh Hylia what do I do now what do I do what do I do I'm a coward I'm a failure Hylia forgive me take this away from me take me away from here Hylia what do I do now_

His face stared back at him from the polished floorboards.

_Hylia, what do I do?_

He stifled the urge to vomit.

_...drip...drip...drip..._

The heavens were silent.

And familiar ice settled over the Hero of Hyrule's heart.

Bony legs hurried down the staircase. Blurry vision grew sharp with determination. Knuckles popped. His heart punched his ribcage with rhythmic, crazed thumps as he crept into the living room. His gaze flickered between the cracks in the floorboards, looking, waiting, searching, calculating. It was here. He knew it was here. He had seen the healing lady hide it under one of these floorboards. It could heal him. It would make him forget.

Moonlight poured through the window and reflected off a crevice between two floorboards. Hyrule’s lips twitched in anticipation.

Fingers that hadn't stolen in years grew electric with anticipation. Hyrule crouched on his knees and lifted the floorboard, smiling humorlessly when he retrieved the silver jewlery case hidden underneath. A breeze of pressure against the golden latch was all that was needed to pop open the lid -- it was clear that the healer and her granddaughter had little expectation that the box would ever be found.

Hyrule shuffled through the tiny, golden bands and massive, cerulean rings oozing magical prowess. The smell of cinnamon and lava spilled from the box and stained his fingers as he searched through the rings. Blue, blue, red, blue, red...

And white.

With quiet, reverent eyes, Hyrule pulled out the white ring from the box. It glistened like marble underneath the moonlight, humming with iridescent majesty and unfathomable healing power. 

Hyrule put the ring to the side and deftly replaced the jewelry box under the floorboard. After making sure that there was no evidence of his disturbance left behind, he grabbed the white ring and dropped it in his pocket. His legs burned with urgency.

The bedroom door swayed on its hinges, and Hyrule turned away from the crystallization of his shame.

He was a failure.

Fire burned through his muscles as he brought himself to his feet. His bones creaked louder than the floor he walked on, yet his feet hovered with a silence only gained through years of running through the wilderness. The front door sighed as he pulled it open, and the empty streets of Darunia Town stood before him.

The fireflies were gone.

Only the ivory disk of the moon was witness to his shame.

Hyrule crept out of the house, then dashed through the streets. Dust kicked up by desperate feet forced itself down his lungs. He tripped once, twice, three times. Bruises flowered across his torso and knees each time he fell. The white ring burned in his pocket when he stumbled and collapsed outside the town entrance.

_Hylia forgive me._

_Oh Hylia please please forgive me. Forgive me._

[*-1][*2]

He stood up, cringing from the nighttime wind, ignoring the burning of the scars feathered across his back, and slipped on the stolen white wing.

And it came back.

_It came back._

The healing power surged through him like a tidal wave, blasting through his veins and electrifying his atrophied muscles. Stale air trapped for weeks at the bottom of his lungs left with a hiss, the sweet taste of night filled his chest and cooled his blood. His vision sharpened. The outline of bones against his skin softened and faded as muscles plumped around them. Crimson cuts and gashes along his hands knitted themselves together, and the shards of glass embedded in his skin crumbled away into dust. 

_It worked._

_The ring._ **_It worked._ **

His legs shuddered with a vivacity they had been missing for weeks. 

With bated breath, Hyrule took a step forward.

His heart stopped once again.

It didn't hurt.

_It didn't hurt anymore._

Another step. 

And another. 

Sand crunched beneath his bare feet, and the wind cooled the sweat on his bare chest. 

And the traveler ran. 

His heart drummed within him, his eyes watered, his mouth burned with the acidic prickle of shame. The ground became a smear of grey and brown as he ran faster, his feet grew bloody and scuffed as they scraped against the dust, his heart became cold and despondent. 

_Faster._

His body obeyed. 

He was sprinting, now. Flashes of ivory burst from the ring each time Hyrule fell, healing his wounds the instant they were created, dissolving the mucus in his throat and the burning in his back, scaring away the monsters leering at the edge of the road. The traveler forced himself up from the ground and commanded the thoughts hammering at the front of his head to the recesses of his mind, let his feet carry him to places only the darkest recesses of his mind recalled.

The taste of shame lingered.

So he ran faster.

The dusty ground beneath gave way to hard wildgrass, then to cool dirt, then to pillowy underbrush. Moonlight twinkled through the foliage above, glistening off spider webs hanging from high-up branches. The perfume of rotting detritus complemented the familiar smell of monsters. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

His pace dwindled from a sprint to a saunter. The blood rushing to his face grew cold and itchy underneath his skin. Only the rings’ intermittent twinkling illuminated the dark path in front of him.

It smelled like home. 

And, at long last, the screaming in his head grew quiet. 

The hushed whistle of water echoed from ahead. Hyrule followed the noise, and the ring’s magic carried him forward on strong legs. A carpet of moss brushed against his feet as he slipped into a clearing. 

His breath left him in an awed huff.

Before him stood a massive Fairy Fountain. Moonlight evaporated off the surface, bent and twisted away from the water by some deep magic. The underside of each ripple was lined with silver, illuminated by a platinum light of the lake’s own, and glistened with the promise of things unseen.

Hyrule inhaled through his nose. The smell of dark magic and peace sank into his bones as he took a seat at the foot of the lake. Fairies glided over the water on wings made of paper-thin jewels and clustered around the hero, chittering greetings and salutations. They settled on his head, their twinkling voices growing louder as Hyrule smiled and nodded to them in recognition.

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

_I’m home._

_Why do I feel so empty, then?_

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the acedia in his veins. The fairies squealed in surprise. Only when Hyrule had mumbled an assortment of apologies did they flutter back to their perches on his head and ears. 

_“Mr. Link, why are you alone?”_ one whispered.

_“Where are your friends?”_ another asked. 

_“Why are you shivering? It’s not cold.”_

_“Do you need healing? You don’t look hurt.”_

_“What happened to your hair?”_

_“Why are you looking at the fountain like that?”_

An icy wind blew through the clearing. Hyrule hunched over the fountain’s bank, each muscle convulsing in a panicked crescendo. His face was so close to the surface that each breath sent ripples across the water. 

_“Mr. Link, why are you crying?”_

He tried to forget.

He tried. 

He’d run. He’d put on the ring and ran, left his shame behind, left his mistake behind, but even the most powerful healing magic in the world couldn’t heal the gash in his soul. 

And despite everything, he still remembered what Legend had done.

_“Mr. Link, that’s such a pretty ring! Why are you trying to take it off?”_

_“You’re doing it much too roughly! You’re going to hurt yourself!”_

_“Mr. Link, you shouldn’t do that--”_

**“Shut up.** **_Shut up. SHUT. UP.”_ **

The fairies were silent. 

Hyrule’s throat burned. His pupils contracted into pinpricks, seething with fury held for too long. He scrabbled desperately at the ring. Blood dripped onto the dry grass below. Skin tore. The ring remained in place. 

_I don’t want this anymore I don’t deserve it I shouldn’t have stole it I’m a liar I’m a thief a failure look at the fairies idiot look you made them cry how could you do this why did this happen Legend why Legend why Hylia forgive me Hylia help me Hylia take this away from me take it all away from me I don’t want to do this anymore I can’t do this anymore I’m so tired I’m too tired I’m sorry for what I did I’m sorry for being a coward Hylia forgive me I’m so sorry please give Legend someone better when I’m gone_

He screamed and tore at the ring. It didn’t move. His heart grew maniac within him. His movements grew erratic. He tugged at the ring with his teeth. Speckles of crimson flew into the air. He did it again, watching with pleasure as the ring’s surface grew dingy with dents and scratches.

He slammed the ring against a rock. The fairies wailed at the sight of his blood. 

Again, and the promise of a fissure spiderwebbed across the ring’s surface.

Again, and the hiss of leaked magic filled the air. 

Again, and iridescent light exploded from the cracked ring.

Magic burst into the air and tore through his skin. It detonated within him, a tsunami of power never meant to be released from his prison, drowning him underneath a wave of incomprehensible power. His muscles flared with blue fire. His breathing grew acidic. Burn marks slithered across his skin. His eyes watered from the pain as the magic grew stronger, wilder, more hateful, more insistent.

And the fairies watched in silent horror as the Hero of Hyrule broke.

The tears dripping off his face turned to lightning. The Thunder Spell exploded around him, forced out of him by the ring's overwhelming magic. He coughed once, twice, three times, the screaming of the fairies deafening the sound of his choking. Puffs of smoke curled from his mouth and nose. He fell to his side, breathing desperately, trying to fill his lungs with anything but the taste of the Fire Spell swelling unbidden in his mouth. The fairies shrieked as the Life Spell splattered to the ground beneath him and turned the dead grass a dazzling green. Air bubbled and burned around him, blackening as his saliva turned to fire and his body bled magic. Hyrule kneeled over, blinded by pain, and vomited a brilliant gout of white fire into the air. The magic kept flooding through him, forcing the fire out of him again and again and again until the only thing Hyrule remembered was the smell of burnt fairy wings and the taste of ivory flame.

Smoke curled from the burning ground. Just-revived plants rejoined the realm of the dead as the Fire Spell stole their life away from them. 

Hyrule heaved and wept as he felt another spell snapping along his spine.

Inhale. 

Exhale.

The Jump Spell blistered around the muscles at the back of his head and slammed his body forward into the ground.

His breathing halted.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head.

The sound of his crying and the thudding of lynel hooves were the last things he heard before he passed out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*-2][*3]

A breeze blew through the camp, stirring brown fingers of dirt into the air. An ugly, misshapen flower cringed away from the wind's coolness. A greyish blight had crept around the edges of the withered petals, turning them to paper, and the leaves hung at the flower's sides like white flags in the wind. Color was a relic of the past to the flower -- only the sickly yellow blush across the stem betrayed that it might still be alive.

Warriors scooted closer, squinting against the harsh campfire light. He twirled the stick of charcoal in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his doodle of the flower. His lines were crisp and geometric, perfectly calculated and strategized, so carefully crosshatched that the illusion of light twisting off metal jumped off from the paper. Thick lines faded into thinner ones, shadows pooled around the stem like a legion of soldiers waiting for command, and the drawing oozed a certain confidence only on par with its creator.

In short, Warriors' drawing was an exceptionally poor depiction of the flower.

"That's a wonderful drawing, Captain," Time said, taking a seat next to Warriors. The latter’s eyebrows flickered upwards, but aside from that, there was no outward indication of his unease.

"Thank you, but it's really not that good."

Time's eyebrows pressed together in a disbelieving v. "I disagree."

"Look, the drawing looks nothing like the reference."

Warriors gestured to the withered flower in front of them, then back to his drawing. Time shook his head.

"Did you intend for it to be so?"

"For it to be what?"

"For the drawing to look like the reference?"

"He's tryna fix it," Wild interjected. Steam hissed in the air as the champion doused the campfire with water and stirred the wet ashes. "The flower isn't pretty. So he's tryna fix it."

"That's absolutely ridiculous,” Warriors denied, his voice colder than he intended for it to be.

“You know I’m right,” Wild replied, crossing his arms. Tension circuited in the air, and Warriors schooled his face into neutrality before his injured ego betrayed him.

"The champion doesn't mean any harm," Time muttered, placing a hand on Warriors' shoulder. His voice crept up from a whisper to conversational volume as the champion turned his focus back to clearing up camp. "And he may be right. There’s nothing wrong with drawing the flower prettier than it is now. And perhaps it was once beautiful. Maybe long ago, but regardless. Maybe the flower respects you for preserving its legacy, even though you weren’t there to see it in its prime.”

Warriors opened his mouth to reply only to be cut off by Sky.

"That's nice and all, but may we _please_ get going?" The eyebags on Sky's face stuck out like bruises, and the Skyloftian slung his baldric over his shoulder with uncharacteristic petulance. "I really _really_ want to get some sleep. In a real bed. Like, now."

"This is an interesting conversation," Four added, trying to sooth the exhaustion-born tension in the air, "but perhaps we could continue it on the road. We've been spending every night for the past two weeks up in these mountains killing monsters, and I think we would all like to get back to town and celebrate. We've worked hard, you know, saving the town and all. Everyone deserves a nap." 

Sky muttered in agreement. Four adjusted his headband and pulled his hood over his face as Time and Warriors considered the proposition.

"You all didn't want to rest here for the night?" Warriors asked. Four and Wild picked up their weapons from the pile by the extinguished campfire in reply. Sky fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly eager to get going. "If we get going now we're going to have to spend all night walking to town." Didn’t you guys want to sleep?

The champion shook his head. "I'd rather see the others sooner rather than later. I’ve visited Hyrule maybe once, and I really want to check up on them. As for the the others, we've barely spent any time with them. I mean, I know that’s because we were always sleeping during the day, but it still sucks. And since we’ve finally cleared out all the monsters in these hills, there's no reason to be apprehensive of night travel."

Warriors' rubbed his chin. Time's armor clinked as he stood.

"The others bring up a fair point. What is your decision, Captain?" Time asked. The group held its breath as Warriors rolled up the map and put on his scarf.

Sky let out a whoop as the captain stood up.

"Let's get going then, shall we?" Warriors asked.

Four and Wild grinned like madmen and set off towards town, their exhaustion and irritation forgotten. Time followed behind them, his eyelids low and content on his face, as Sky took up his usual position at the rear. 

“You coming, Warriors?” Wild asked from up ahead.

“Yes! Just give me a moment.”

Warriors waited until the other’s backs were turned, then focused his attention on the map in his hands. He gave the corner of the map with the drawing of the flower one last look before tearing it off and grounding it into the dirt. Once he was sure it was covered, Warriors rolled up the map and hurried to catch up to Sky.

Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours, and the group carried on in silence. 

Dark patches speckled the ground beneath them, red, black, green, and the lull of midnight settled like a blanket over the world. The sound of boots crunching on dirt and metal clinking on metal were the only sounds in the whole world. 

This was familiar. 

This was normal.

Warriors pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and wondered, then, why nothing felt right.

His eyes drifted to Wild and Four, who had fallen to the sides of the path and were picking an assortment of white-headed flowers. A gift for the ones back in town, the captain assumed. They seemed happy. The expression on Time’s face was almost identical to that of Wild’s, albeit slightly more thoughtful. So the old man was doing okay too, it seemed. 

Sky grumbled unintelligibly next to him, eyes trained on the floor. 

Ah. 

“Evening, Sky,” Warriors said, clapping a hand on the other hero’s back. Sky flinched, realizing too late that his facade had cracked. 

“...evening, Cap’tn,” the other replied at last. 

Warriors’ gaze grew sharp and intelligent, yet his features remained soft under the moonlight. 

“You were amazing out there,” Warriors began, his hand not moving from Sky’s shoulder. “Do you think you could spar with me some time? Your swordsmanship is remarkable. I think I have a lot to learn from you.” 

Sky shrugged and wrapped his sailcloth tighter around his shoulders. The complement seemed to roll off his back and slough off onto the path behind them. Warriors’ vision sharpened. Missing his girl? Midnight melancholy? Homesickness?

Something deeper? 

Warriors wound his scarf tighter and busied his finger with a frayed corner. 

“I mean what I said,” Warriors continued. “I’m not flattering you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” 

Warriors’ chin tilted towards his collarbone. His eyebrows knitted. Sky was smart. Emotional, but smart. He would have learned to build some sort of psychological buffer against these sort of friendly advances -- a wall, perhaps -- or he would be far less mysterious of a teammate than he presently was. Warriors already knew he had been denied entrance from the wall’s front gate, so perhaps a back door approach would be best. 

“It’s quite beautiful here,” Warriors said, pointing to the dried trees and blood splattered road. Darunia Town’s dingy lamplight hung like smoke on the horizon, and the ugliness of it all was almost a smack in the face. From the dark look on Sky’s face, Warriors knew the other was sharply aware of the lie in the statement. 

“If you say so,” Sky said, surrendering the conversation before it had even begun. 

A walled silence grew between them. The back gate of Darunia Town drew closer, and Wild let out a joyful cheer as the group of heroes stepped into the small village. They meandered slowly through the streets, suddenly energized by the prospect of sleep, and wandered with the languid, easy steps of an unhurried traveler. 

All except for Warriors and Sky. 

“...I don’t like it here,” Sky said at last. 

Warriors said nothing and waited for the silence to coax the other into elaboration. 

“...I don’t like it here. I don’t know why. I just. I don’t like it here. It’s miserable. Everything is..it’s just all dead.” 

The others turned at a bend up ahead, leaving Sky and Warriors behind. The captain let his pace relax; there was no need to rush.

“Ah, I see,” Warriors said, pressing a finger to his chin in thought. “Nothing else, then?” 

Sky’s eyes drifted to the laundry lines above their heads and the tiny scraps of children’s clothing that fluttered from them. Moblin blood stained the dirt beneath, and the smell of fire carried in the air. Something deep in Sky’s eyes flickered and vanished. He shouldered the Master Sword as if it were made of hot coal and shook his head. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s all.” 

Warriors sighed.

“Sky, listen, I--” 

They turned a corner to be greeted by absolute chaos. 

A swarm of armored knights stood in front of the healing house, shouting and yelling at an ungodly volume. A trio of horses-mounted knights pranced in the clearing, prowling like vultures in the open space. The first wheeze of dawn coughed its way into the sky as the din grew louder, and the heroes looked at each other with panicked expressions.

“What’s going on over there?” Warriors asked as he and Sky caught up with the others. Time shook his heads in confusion. Wild and Four muttered to each other as they tried to make sense of the scene in front of them. 

“Is this some sort of festival?” Sky asked hopefully.

“Something’s wrong,” Four said, not even bothering to address Sky’s ill-timed optimism. “Do you hear that?” 

They all drew closer, and a familiar voice reached their ears. 

“That’s the sailor,” Time said. 

Warriors’ heart thudded within him. 

Time was right. 

Wind’s voice carried on the feeble morning breeze, and as Warriors dashed past the other heroes, he could make out the sailor’s figure on the porch. The young hero waved his arms in front of him, desperately trying to reason with the crowd milling about the healing house. Purple flags carried on silver poles waved in the wind, and the scene started to fall into place as deep-rooted memories clambered to the surface. 

Horses. 

Flags. 

Young men with oiled beards and silver armor and too much pride. 

This was some sort of royal organization. A royal guard. 

And they wanted something from Wind.

Warriors’ breath hitched. Wind’s pleas grew more and more desperate. 

“Does this royal summons mean nothing to you, boy?” One knight accused, waving a paper under Wind’s nose. 

“Bring out the hero!” another man on horseback demanded. 

“Step aside, by the orders of Queen and Princess Zelda and the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Hyrule! We’ve played this game long enough, young man!” 

The thump of leather boots on dirt grew louder behind him, and Warriors’ didn’t need to turn around to know that Sky, Time, Wild, and Four were right behind him. 

“I’m telling you,” Wind said, his bloodshot eyes glistening in the sallow light. “Listen to me, he isn’t here!” 

The air froze. 

“What do you mean ‘he isn’t here?’” one of the royal guardsmen demanded. “Where would he have gone?” 

“I’m wondering the same thing!” Wind moaned. His voice snapped and cracked on the last word like fragmented bone. 

“Let us in,” the tallest guard concluded. “We don’t have time for this.” 

The mutters of agreement grew into a tidal wave of noise. Wind threw himself across the door and stared at the others with wild, pleading eyes. 

“He isn’t -- _he isn’t here! I’m telling you, he isn’t here!”_

A familiar coolness settled in Warriors’ blood, and he charged to the front of the crowd. The mild distaste on the knights’ faces morphed into frightened awe as they registered the confidence and power in Warriors’ stance. The crowd parted before him. Warriors stepped onto the porch and stood beside the sailor, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder for good measure. 

The knights cowered under his glare.

“What’s going on here?” Warriors asked, his voice icy. The knights looked at each other in trepidation before silently nominating their tallest member to speak. 

“We have a royal summons for the Hero of Hyrule. We were told he was recovering here, sir.” 

Warriors noted the honorific with an upwards tick of his chin and the information with level eyebrows. He scanned the crowd of red-faced, brown-bearded knights, eyes sharpened for any hint of deceit. All he saw was a ragtag group of boys with no sense of brotherhood set out on a mission too big for them. 

Something about the look in their eyes was familiar. 

His focus drifted to Time and the others, who had sifted through the edges of the group. Four had already pulled a particularly lanky guard to the side for interrogation. Wild was gone. 

“Gentlemen,” Warriors said at last. “What do the words ‘he’s not here’ mean to you?” 

The tallest guard, the one that had spoken to him before, flinched and colored. 

“It’s a lie, sir,” the other responded. “There’s no way. We have reports of the Hero of Hyrule traveling with a caravan of highly talented warriors. Some accounts we’ve collected say that he even referred to them as his family. There’s no way they would have let him out of their sight.” 

Every particle in Warriors’ body turned to ice. 

Only the sound of deep, baritone sobbing from within the healing house kept him in the realm of the living. 

_Was that the rancher?_

“Pardon me,” Warriors said, blinking quickly and trying to peel away the frost creeping around his soul. “I will be back in a moment.” 

Warriors slipped away from Wind’s pleading stare and walked into the healing house, not even flinching when the door slammed behind him. 

The place was a disaster. Herbs and potions were scattered across the floor like glass. The stink of burnt food filled the fireplace. The shouting outside had stopped, only punctuated by the rumble of Time’s voice and the thump of feet on the roof.

Ah, that’s where the champion was. Finding a back door, like the quick-witted demon he was. 

Had there been one iota less of terror in the air, Warriors might have smiled. 

“Oh, thank the goddesses you’re here,” the woman said, stumbling over her words and her feet as she bumbled out of the kitchen. Warriors’ eyes narrowed until his memories coalesced into recognition; this was the healer’s paranoid granddaughter. “Oh I’ve been praying and praying and I’m so glad you’re here, sir. Have you found him?” 

“No, ma’am,” Warriors replied. 

The hopeful look on her face evaporated, and her eyelids drew back harshly. Wetness had already started to brim on her lower eyelid. The sound of deep, muffled wailing grew louder from upstairs. 

“You haven’t? Oh no, oh goddesses, oh no oh no oh no oh n--” 

“Ma’am,” Warriors said, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder and leaning down to look her in the eye. “We will find him. Don’t worry.” 

“How? How are you going to find him? We have no idea where he went. We have no idea when he left. None of the others knew. Not my grandmother, nor your traveling companions, nor any of the villagers. We asked everyone. Everyone. And everyone said that they knew nothing. Sir, what are we going to do? What is our kingdom supposed to do without a hero? We can’t survive all alone in a place like this. You need to find him. Please! Please sir, you need to find him. I’ll give you anything, I--” 

“Ma’am, there’s no need for sacrifices. I want to find him just as badly as you do.” The woman’s hysteria cooled under the captain’s confident tone. “May you tell me where the others are?” 

She pointed to the top of the staircase.

Another wail from upstairs cut through the silence, and Warriors remembered where he was. With a final nod of recognition to the woman, Warriors followed the sound and glided up the steps. 

With a guttural squeal, the door creaked open.

Dim sunlight glinted off the floorboards. The window curtains fluttered in the breeze. Salt and sweat hung like perfume in the air, and the bodies of tiny, dead bugs crunched under Warriors’ feet as he slipped inside. 

And in the center of the room sat the veteran and the rancher, clinging to each other like they were the only real people in a world of dreams. 

There were many sounds Warriors had quickly learned to hate. The hum of Cia’s voice. The funeral dirges for fallen soldiers. The fear in the princess’ voice when their forces turned against them. 

The terrible, heartbroken sobs bursting from the bottom of Twilight’s lungs were instantly added to that list.

The bedframe creaked as the two heroes rocked back and forth, locked in a hug so tight that it was a wonder they could still breathe. Twilight began to mutter something, but Legend shushed him and hugged him tighter. The smell of confessed heartache and infected memories hung in the air. 

It was the veteran who noticed him first. He looked up at Warriors with watery, courageous eyes, then patted Twilight’s back. The other hero shifted and turned pale when he saw Warriors. 

“Heroes, it’s alright,” Warriors said. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s not your fault the traveler is gone. We’ll find Hyrule soon.” 

They both looked confused. 

Two tense heartbeats passed, and remembrance flickered across Twilight’s face. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and pulled his pelt hood low over his face. 

“I’m going to go help Wind downstairs,” the rancher said. He cringed away from Warriors’ questioning expression and hurried downstairs. 

Warriors’ eyes turned to Legend for explanation. 

The veteran still looked confused. 

“What’s going on?” Legend finally asked, getting off the bed to stand next to Warriors. 

A terrible feeling crept along Warriors’ spine. 

“The traveler. The traveler, he’s gone.” 

Legend opened his mouth, then closed it. 

“You didn’t know?” Warriors asked, losing control of the increasingly accusatory tone in his voice. 

“I...no. Yes. I knew. Yes. I was just talking to Twilight about something else.”

Warriors’ heart thudded. His extremities felt light. A thousand bad memories were reflected back in the cyan of Legend’s eyes, a thousand lies, a thousand betrayals, a thousand nights waiting for another soldier to turn against him. 

Warriors inhaled sharply.

No.

Mistrust was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now. It was early in the day. Very early. Legend had just shared a heartfelt moment with Twilight. Perhaps the veteran was still too emotionally charged to remember the travelers’ disappearance.

There was nothing to worry about.

There was nothing to worry about. 

There was nothing to worry about.

He wound his scarf tighter around his neck. His veins thudded from the pressure. 

“Veteran, I’m going to take you at your word. Don’t make me regret that decision.” 

The silence stunk of lies and dead fireflies.

“You never will. You have my word, Captain.” 

Warriors nodded, searching for any sign of ill-intent, and found nothing but the familiar, honest angles of the veteran’s face. The captain turned heel and left the room, closing the door with more force than he had intended, and nearly collided with Wild on the stairs. Apparently the champion had crept through a window at the side of the house and spoken to both the healing lady and her granddaughter, and had a testimony of his own to share. Warriors listened as Wild explained how neither of the women had any idea of when or how Hyrule had left, confirming what the captain had heard earlier.

“Well, did Legend tell you anything?” Wild said at last, gesturing to the bedroom door. “Does he know where Hyrule went?” 

Warriors descended down the stairs and shook his head, stopping just in front of the front door. 

“No, but he told me all I needed to hear.” 

“And that was?” 

“We’re going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay. I’m worrying more than I need to.” 

“Worrying more than you need to? Our invalid traveler is _missing,_ Captain! This is a pretty good time to worry, in my opinion!” 

“There’s more than one thing on my mind,” Warriors mumbled, trying to push his way past Wild and open the front door. The champion refused to move. 

“Then tell me what those things are. Warriors, we’re supposed to be a team.”

“Step away from the door, please.” 

“Warriors, listen to me. How can I trust you if you’re holding so many secrets? I want to help you. I want to help Hyrule. Please, listen to me. I won’t be able to live with myself if I let down another friend. Please. For my sake. Tell me, Warriors, what are you worried about?” 

A chord struck deep within the Captain. Wild’s words echoed in his ears like a gong, a drum, a bugle horn, a fairy whispering truth to a fallen, lonely hero after his men had turned against him.

“Wild, I’ve started to doubt the veteran.” 

The words hung in the air like a confession, and Warriors cringed at the taste of his own treachery. He couldn’t bring himself to continue.

“You’re not the only one,” Wild replied. “Something has changed. I don’t know what it is. But things aren’t supposed to be this way. Legend -- Legend is the one who’s supposed to be worrying the most, he’s the one who’s supposed to be crying right now. Not Twilight. Not Wind. Not -- not me.” Wild’s voice broke, and Warrior noticed for the first time the tears slipping down the champion’s face. “I’m telling you, something happened. Something went wrong. Between him and the traveler, I mean. I know that people drift apart over time. And maybe, I don’t know, maybe I just got too attached. I liked things how they were. I liked it a lot, too much, I think, and maybe it’s because things are changing now that I--” 

“Hey,” Warriors said, cutting Wild off by placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I didn’t finish.”

Wild flinched. 

“I’m sorry, I--” 

“I’m only cutting you off because you don’t have the full picture, not because your concerns aren’t serious and logical. Listen. I’ve started to doubt the veteran _even though_ I know he would never betray us. Things have changed lately, you just acknowledged that. But I also know that the veteran is one of the most honest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know why I can’t take him at his word. I believe I’m overthinking it. It’s a problem I’ve always had, and the past few days have made it worse. And perhaps the same is true for you as well.” 

Wild’s face illuminated with hope. It was almost comical how happy he was to be told he was wrong. 

“You really think so?” 

“Our old habits are catching up with us. Our pasts are staining our present. We’ve been through a lot, you and I. It’s hard to trust when you’ve lost so much, and this journey in the traveler’s Hyrule has not been kind to us. It’s our defense armor coming back on. We’ve become hypersensitive, I believe.” 

“I think we have,” Wild said, latching onto the hope in Warriors’ voice. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe. Yeah, I think that’s it.” 

Warriors pulled at his scarf and let the blue silk relax around his neck. 

“ _Now_ may you step away from the door?” 

Wild chuckled and complied, holding the door open as the captain sauntered out. The clamor outside grew silent as he reemerged, and the crowd parted as Warriors stepped off the porch and made a beeline towards one of the horse-mounted guardsmen. The captain gave the guardsman one look before the other cowered and hopped off the saddle. The other knights grew silent and picked at their armor, then sputtered in confusion as the captain mounted the horse. 

The horse reared up on its hind legs, and the sunlight glinted like ice off Warriors’ pauldron. His scarf snapped and swayed in the wind, and he started down at the pathetic guardsmen with the fury of a war god.

“What do you think you’re doing?” one of them cried. 

“I’m going to go find my brother.” 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*-3][*4]

Different kinds of nightmares induce different kinds of wakings. Some are so harsh and dark that the victim has no choice but to wake up with a start, with a sheen of sweat on their forehead, with a pounding heart and a mind slightly unsure of who its owner is. There are other nightmares that are slow and creeping, a black embroidery around otherwise perfect dreams, oozing, creeping things that terrorize the victim in small increments over time.

And there are the nightmares that are icy-hot, freezing to the touch. They are the ones that burn through the soul and leave a firm handprint at the back of the victim’s mind, even if their contents are forgotten. They are quiet demons born from the ashes of bad memories, parasites that cling to the victim even as they cross the bridge into the waking world. 

Hyrule woke up with ice and fire creeping around his heart. 

There was no sweat. No sudden startle or cry for help. No pounding heart. No shuddering breath. 

Just the deep, empty sensation that his wakefulness had nothing good in store for him. 

He lay with wide-open eyes and lungs clogged with mucus, blindly feeling the ratty blankets draped over his figure. Yellowish light flickered in the distance. The smell of stone encased him. Even though he didn’t know exactly where he was, he had a surefire guess.

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Since when had caves stopped feeling like home to him? 

He sat up, ignoring the pain bursting from his muscles as he did so, and took stock of his surroundings. He was in some sort of makeshift hammock held up by two wooden poles, close enough to the ground that he could slip out without a sound. There was a shield propped up against one of the poles with a pair of boots and folded green tunic next to it. The crackling of fire echoed from up ahead complemented the faint smell of soup. 

Ah, so he wasn’t the only one in the cave. 

Hyrule patted his chest and thighs and confirmed that the only thing he had on was a pair of shorts. He pulled on the tunic and boots without a moment's hesitation, marveling for a short second at how well both fit him, then picked up the shield and crept towards the fire. 

The space around the campfire was curiously empty. A pot filled with a suspicious looking soup bubbled over the flames, and a set of rags were cast to the side in imitation of a sitting cushion, but there didn’t seem to be any presence aside from his own. 

Hyrule took a cautious seat by the fire, making sure to press his back to the cave wall and keep his eyes on the shadows. 

He was somehow still surprised by the sudden voice.

“You’re awake, huh?” 

Hyrule leapt to his feet and pointed his arm in the direction of his voice, remembering a second too late that he didn’t have a sword.

“Courageous as ever, I see. Things have changed little over the years.” 

The speaker emerged from the shadows, and Hyrule’s jaw went slack from surprise. 

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Link? Don’t tell anyone I’m here. It’s a secret to everybody.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this last chapter, and I truly hope and pray that you'll like the ones to come. Please don't be afraid to leave any questions or comments you have below, I respond to each and every comment I get as soon as I complete the outline for the next chapter! But you aren't ever obligated to leave comments or kudos, I just hope you like the story so far! 
> 
> Also, I noticed that there were some things that people were confused about here in the comments, so let me clarify them! 
> 
> (Q1) Why was Twilight crying? Did Legend do something to him? 
> 
> (A1) That'll be something I'll explain and elaborate on in Chapter 12! There is a reason as to why, and I hope you all will find the explanation behind Twilight's breakdown to be interesting!
> 
> (Q2) Who is the speaker at the end of the chapter? 
> 
> (A2) ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ We'll see more about him in the next chapter!! But for those of you who picked up on the speaker's quote and recognized who says it in Zelda 1, yes, your suspicions are probably correct. I hope you'll enjoy the role this mystery character plays in the chapters to come! 
> 
> Please stay safe, everyone, and take care! See y'all next chapter!! :D


	12. The Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule meets an old friend. 
> 
> Warriors loses one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all are doing well. My apologies for the very long wait! There are a lot of things I wanted to go over in this chapter, and I wanted to make sure that everything was written as well as it could be. There are still some comments on the last chapter that I need to get to, but I didn’t want you all to wait for this chapter any longer than you have to! Now, for some housekeeping things! 
> 
> 1- RecommendedVibes! There are four recommended songs for this chapter, and, in order, they are: 
> 
> [*1] Enya - Boadicea (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7GKzZ81tOw0&ab_channel=IanMcMullan)
> 
> [*2] Yoshikage Kira’s Theme (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=De--nqfthkk&ab_channel=SZ4FUN2-OST) 
> 
> [*3] Enya - Caribbean Blue (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvX2uUf3X_Y&ab_channel=Teshika) 
> 
> [*4] Dark Rebirth [Extended] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4vLsgb4tRk&ab_channel=Gibus%26Moses). 
> 
> You can start ‘Boadicea’ right from the start, as it’s the opening vibe, but the other three will come in at specific times. Please reference the author’s note on Chapter 8 for instructions on how the notation works! 

[*1]

...3...4...5...

Warriors held his breath and strained his ears.

...6...7...was that all? No, no, there were more...8...9... 

He tugged on his scarf and walked faster, pretending he had never heard the squeal of leather boots or the hushed, fanboyish chatter of the Royal Guardsmen behind him. A now-familiar coolness inched down his spine and sunk between the cracks in his ribs. The smell of armor polish and ink trialed behind him. Paper crackled as his fist clamped even tighter around the dirty map in his hands. 

He started walking faster. 

The champion had once said something about the Zoran prince of his era having a "fanclub." Warriors had always thought the idea to be cute, even interesting. The thought of a group of people dedicated to one person...there was something so wholesome about it, almost like a trail of ducklings toddling after a long-necked, elegant swan. 

Warriors ran a hand through his hair, frowned at the greasy sheen his fingers came away with, and snorted at his past self. 

The sound of the Royal Guardsmen behind him grew louder.

With a sigh, Warriors stopped jogging, put on a wooden smile, and took a seat at the base of a tree.

No use in trying to outrun them.

"Captain!" a nasally voice called out. A red-faced guardsman tumbled into the clearing, gripping his shield and lance with bright-eyed anticipation. The boy's face quickly shifted into a more professional mask as he registered the coolness in Warriors' eyes. "I just -- uh, I just wanted to ask if you were still able to spar with me today."

The Captain smiled and stood up. His expression softened, yet his eyes remained distant.

"Just with you?"

The guardsman opened his mouth, then closed it again as his eyes darted behind him.

"Well...a few of the other guys wanted to tag along." The boy turned to face Warriors again. "But I promise we won't take much of your time, sir."

Warriors said nothing.

"I mean, wouldn't it be best if we did?" the boy prattled on. "If we don't find the Hero in Nabooru Town, we might need to go farther south, and it's very dangerous there and I think that us guardsmen just aren't prepared as you all...I mean, it's been, like, uh, two weeks since-"

"Three," Warriors corrected.

"Uh, yeah. It's been three weeks since we've started looking for the Hero, and, I dunno, wouldn't it be best if we were more prepared in case--"

"I'll spar with you," Warriors said, stepping forward and letting the moonlight glint off of his silken smile. "Don't worry. You don't need to explain yourself to me."

Cheering erupted around the clearing, echoing off tree trunks and sending a flock of birds bursting into the air. Guardsmen of all shapes and sizes lumbered out from their hiding places; extricating themselves from hollow logs and overturned rocks and tree limbs with more enthusiasm than grace. They congregated in front of him with eager faces and shining eyes, snapping into formation before Warriors could say a word.

The captain took a shallow breath and put on a shallower smile. 

_How many of them were there?_

"Good evening, gentlemen," Warriors said, letting the words fall out with the momentum of his exhale. The guardsmen responded with a similar greeting, inclining their head towards the captain and placing their hands at their sides.

Warriors rubbed the back of his neck, trying to scrounge up the last dredges of his sociability. A now-familiar lethargy rebuffed his attempts, and every word felt like it was wrenched from the bottom of his soul.

"Let's start with some stretches, shall we?"

The guardsmen nodded, encouraged by the smile on Warriors' face, and the group settled into a practice rhythm. Seconds crawled by as muscles were stretched and contracted and strained. Minutes dribbled away as Warriors sparred with the first in line, then the second, then the third. Hours toddled along with sadistic sluggishness as the sky turned darker in the smallest increments imaginable.

And in the eyes of every guardsman, Warriors saw the bright, sorrowful ones of Hyrule's own.

Breathing was too painful. 

His vision blurred. 

Warriors blindly swung his sword, only for it to be met by tree bark. Startled, the captain took a few steps back, blinkling quickly until the water in his eyes dissipated and the scene in front of him came into view.

"...are you okay, Captain?" one of the guards asked.

Warriors looked down at his hands to see the skin torn and reddened from his sword's hilt. The blisters on his palm turned yellowish and white as he pulled his fingers back and watched the skin tighten and strain under the pressure..

"Captain, what’s wrong?" another asked.

"I'm sure he's fine," someone else said. "We all space out sometimes. You especially, Toba."

"I do not!"

"Wait, we're done?" Warriors asked, his words thick and dreamy. 

Warriors’ question hung heavily in the midnight wind. The guardsmen looked at each other uncomfortably, debating among themselves who should be first to speak, when all of them were silenced by the sound of distant footsteps and much-nearer voices.

"If you want your dinner hot, then yes, you're done," Legend said, stepping into the clearing with a torch held in front of his face. Shadows pooled around the veteran's cheekbones and cast his face in a glaze of sinister gold. The knotted scar across his cheekbone poured an ugly, warped shadow across his face, and the bandages around his finger fluttered like bloody butterfly wings in the wind.

Warriors didn't realize he had been holding his breath until Twilight also came into view.

"Wild finished cooking lunch a while ago," Twilight said, gesturing vaguely in the distance to where the camp was. "We know you all enjoy your spars, so we waited a little bit, but it's getting late. You all should come back sooner rather than later." The torch light gleamed strangely off the rancher's sharp features, highlighting the tips of his eyelashes and angular bangs. In Warriors’ opinion, the rancher looked much better than expected with short hair.

"Well? What'll it be, Captain?" Legend said, his face dripping with shadows.

"Sounds good to me. Let's get going, everyone," Warriors said, sweeping his hands around him and clapping a few guards on the shoulder. They all made their way towards camp, waiting for the captain to grab his map and sheathe his sword, and set off at their characteristically half-hurried pace. Talk of exercise regimens and maiden's tales grew quiet as Warriors made his way to the front of the group, casually wedging himself in the space between Twilight and Legend.

"How was it?" Legend asked, tugging mischievously at the edge of Warriors' scarf.

"It was fine. I was a little tired, but these guys truly are a fantastic group," Warriors responded.

"Legend's jealous because you didn't invite him," Twilight said, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

"Am not! _"_

"Yeah you are," Twilight said. A smile softened his features, and the Legend moaned loudly in theatrical protest.

Warriors' eyebrows furrowed.

Since when did Legend and Twilight get along so well?

"Excuse me, sir?" 

The half-muttered platitude along with the shy shoulder-tap was enough to snap Warriors out of his thoughts. He turned around and squinted before making out the shape of the speaker -- a tall guardsman. 

"What can I help you with, my friend?" Warriors asked. 

The skinny, green-eyed guardsman hesitated before garnering the courage to speak.

"Umm...Captain, are you alright? I know that the other guys asked you this earlier but I just wanted to double check. You were a little off during your spar with me earlier today. Not that you looked bad or anything, you just felt kind of distant, if that makes sense."

Warriors flushed. He had always prided himself on being a good actor.

Apparently not.

"Listen," Warriors began, gently punching the guard’s shoulder and slowing his pace to match that of the other's, "I'm fine. I was actually just telling the other guys about how I was feeling a little tired. We did a lot of planning during lunch today. Lots of bickering, too. And training was pretty tiring. You know how we are, haha! It’s just been a long day -- I’m sure you understand."

The guardsman nodded in fervent agreement.

"Sir, if you ever need help with planning, I"ll be glad to. And there are a few navigational experts here in the Royal Guard who would certainly be glad to help if you wanted their assistance."

Warriors smiled and--

"We already have a plan," Legend said from ahead, his voice frigid.

The younger guardsman took one look at the veteran before crumpling his nose in disdain. He stepped between Warriors and Legend, halting the caravan of moving men.

"We may have a plan, but it’s not infallible. If we don’t find the Hero in Nabooru Town, what are we going to do?” the guard challenged. “Go South? Do you know how dangerous that is? We’ll need to be more strategic. We need to prepare for the worst."

Warriors wrung his hand in his scarf.

"Hyru--Link is fine," Legend said.

"How do you know that? None of us know that! What if he was kidnapped by a monster, or injured, or hurt?" The guardsman's words grew acidic. His expressions twisted with vitriol. His lean shadow towered over the veteran. "Maybe you don't care about him, maybe you don't care about the Hero, but he's all we have. He's all this country has. We can't just give up on him by assuming that he's strong enough to fight every--"

"Enough."

And there was silence.

"Enough of this," Warriors continued. "We are tired. We are hungry. We are scared. Just because it feels like bad things are on the horizon doesn't mean we should act like they've already happened. If we want this group to stay and work and fight together, we must respect each other. We must _trust_ each other."

The captain’s last words hung in the air like a death knell. After a few tense moments, the guardsman shared a sharp look with Legend, then nodded in an amalgamation of compliance and defeat.

The group continued on in silence, arriving back at camp with quiet faces and loud minds. Wild greeted them with a strained smile. Each of them returned the tight-lipped, dark-eyed grimace.

Dinner began in complete silence, with only the awkward crackling of the fire and the uncouth clink of utensils on the rim of wooden bowls. Warriors’ eyes drifted over to Wind, who seemed to be muttering something to Sky. The Skyloftian nodded, a smile on his face, and gave the sailor a gentle punch of encouragement. 

“Hey guys!” Sky cried, waving to the cloudy-eyed group sitting around the fire. “The kiddo has something to say!”

The sailor gave an embarrassed grin, then clapped his hands. 

And broke out in song.

" _'Tis sung about in Windfall,_

_Outset and Mercay!_

_A hundred hearty sailors_

_A whalin' for to go, singin'_

_Blow, ye winds, o' mornin', blow, ye winds, hi ho!_

_Clear away your runnin' gear and blow, ye winds, hi ho!"_

Wind lept to his feet and danced around the fire, singing his sailor's shanty with every fibre of energy in his body. Sky jumped in, then Wild, then Twilight, then Legend, then Time, then the guardsmen stood up one by one as they, too, chose the next best way to forget the troubles at hand.

They had no beer, but they had music. 

The singing went long into the night, disjointed, ugly, and desperate, but Warriors felt muscles unclench and his breathing become easier as the firelight gleamed off Wind’s smile. 

At least the kid thought they were going to be okay.

Warriors eventually excused himself from the festivities under the pretense that he needed to get more sleep, then crawled to the far corner of camp. He unclasped the leather bands of his pauldron and shrugged off his chain mail, wrapping his scarf around the metal lump to make a sort of hard-edged, makeshift pillow. He lay on his bedroll with a grunt and turned his back to the campfire.

“Do you want to borrow an actual pillow?" a thoughtful voice whispered. Warriors jolted in surprise and sat upright, nearly slamming his face into Four's.

"Oh," the captain said, trying to regain his composure. "Oh. Yes. No. I'm fine. What's up?"

"Nothing," Four said, taking a seat at the edge of Warriors' bedroll. "You're not actually going to sleep, are you?"

Warriors said nothing.

"Captain, listen to me. We’re going to find him soon. Things will be alright. And we’re not alone either, the entire kingdom is looking for him. Hopefully a townsperson in Nabooru flagged him down. Or maybe he'll come back."

"You’re making it sound like he ran away on purpose.”

“I -- I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” Four folded his hands and looked up at Warriors, staring through half-lidded eyes at the sprinkling of pimples on the captain’s jaw and cheeks. The smithy chewed the inside of his cheek, drew a breath, then pulled a large, leather-bound book out of his bag and handed it to Warriors. "Listen, I just wanted to give this to you."

“Thank you, Four, but I can’t read this. I don’t know your Hylian.”

"I know that. Open the book."

Warriors did as instructed, embarrassed at the small grunt he let out as he pried open the cover, and flipped through the blank, lineless pages. His confusion was almost audible.

"This book is empty."

Four sighed. "Warriors, it's a sketchbook."

"Hmm. The pages are a little small for mapmaking, but I think it can work."

The smithy sighed again.

"Oh, sorry," Warriors said. "I meant to say thank you."

The smithy waved a hand in front of him and smiled. "It’s a sketchbook for _fun_ , Warriors. Not for strategizing. Here, wanna draw together?"

The smithy pressed a pen into the palm of Warriors' hand before the captain could say anything. Warriors twirled it in between his fingers, marveling at the tendril of black ink that dribbled from the tip as Four got his own drawing materials out.

"You draw?" Warriors asked at last.

"Not as well as you. I prefer calligraphy. Zelda -- my Zelda -- always dragged me along for her penmanship lessons. She stopped asking me to come once I got better at it than her.”

The two grinned at each other, and a heartbeat of reperive passed between them.

Warriors had no beer. 

Warriors had no songs. 

But he had his drawings.

  
  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  
  
  


Hyrule was good at leaving things behind.

He left Calatia, the kingdom of his birth, when he was only a child. He left his first shield in the stomach of a like-like, left his first sword in a merchant’s shop, left the comfort of anonymity when he saved the princess. He left the brightest years of his adolescence to reawaken Princess Zelda's predecessor, left towns and friendly faces to focus on his quest, left the luxury of immorality when he held the reunified Triforce in his hands. 

He thought very rarely about the things he had loved and lost.

Perhaps that's why he was always surprised when familiar faces and memories resurfaced.

The hero swallowed thickly and stared at the figure in front of him, his eyes wide with shock and his skin flushed with disbelief. An electric, hot moment of silence seared through the cave, more tangible than the warmth cast by the fire.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Link. I didn't age _that_ badly," the moblin said at last. 

"...how?" Hyrule whispered, trying to suppress a stupid smile from splitting his face in two. He hadn't seen his moblin friend since his first quest, but the friendly, genial twinkle in the monster's eye made it feel like no time had passed at all. The air warmed around him. Hyrule could almost hear the familiar words echoing in his ears...." _it's a secret to everybody…"_

"I'll explain everything," the moblin said. "For now, take a seat."

The moblin gestured to one of the cloth mats around the fire before seating himself on the plumpest one. Hyrule followed suit, laying his shield over his lap and propping his face up on his hands.

He never thought seeing friends after a long time could make him so happy.

After sprinkling a few curious-looking herbs into a pot of soup stewing over the fire and placing the cap on top, the moblin returned his attention to Hyrule. The smell of onions and mint grew repulsive as the two friends glanced awkwardly at each other, marveling at the way time had changed and morphed the other’s features. 

"Nice hair," the moblin said at last. 

"Huh?"

Hyrule ran his hands over his head, feeling soft, baby curls fluff around his knuckles like cotton.

Wait.

How long had he been out?

He must have asked the question aloud, because the moblin huffed and folded his hands in his lap.

"Three weeks to the day. I was starting to worry that you were never going to wake up."

"Three weeks?" Hyrule echoed, feeling the words roll on his tongue like buttered marbles. The chatter in his head grew garbled and frazzled, unable to scrounge up any memory that provided context to his situation. "What happened?"

"A friend and I found you by a fairy fountain. We thought you were dead. It's not every day that someone survives a magic overdose as potent as yours."

Hyrule’s mind stuttered, stopped, and remembered. 

And the smell of ash and burning fairy wings crashed upwards into his nostrils, the taste of acidic, foreign magic, of energy pulled out from the fabric of the ground beneath him, of muscles being stripped fiber for fiber, _of black and white and gold and dross and lies and truth and--_

"Link. Take a breath."

_Inhale._

_Exhale_

"It wasn't your fault," the moblin continued, the creases in his leathery face emphasizing the graveness in his voice. "But you need to be careful with magical artifacts. Those white rings are far too powerful for any man or monster to use, even when their magic is properly sealed. Misuse them and you might end up killing yourself."

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

Hyrule hung his head and stared blankly at the shield in his lap. His reflection stared back, face laced with a raised, reddish lattice of lightning scars he had inflicted on himself. 

His mind grew loud, and his heart grew lonely.

"You feeling okay?" the moblin asked.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Just.."

"Taking it all in?”

“...yeah.”

Hyrule wrung his hands together and ran his fingers along his knuckles, then abruptly stopped. 

“The ring,” he stammered, “the ring, where is it?” 

The moblin smiled sadly. “Don’t worry, Link. My friend -- the same one I was with when I found you, actually -- is trying to fix it for you. He’ll pass by to drop it off as soon as it’s all patched up.” 

“How long until then, you think?” 

“A few more days. Weeks, maybe. He isn’t a particularly fast worker.” 

“Weeks?” Hyrule exclaimed. “I can’t stay here that long! My brothe-- my teammates are going to be worried sick! They're probably looking for me right now. I, uh, I need to go,” he said, making a move to stand up. “I don’t need the ring, not really.” 

The skin of the moblin’s forehead drew together in concern, and a strange shimmer of intelligence glinted in the monster’s dark eyes. 

“Is that so?” the moblin questioned. “As far as I’m aware, the ring isn’t yours to leave behind.” 

Hyrule froze. 

“...I -- I didn’t...” 

“Yes, you did,” the moblin said. His words were tranquil, almost as if he was talking about types of tea rather than theft and deadly magical artifacts. “There’s only one person in West Hyrule who owns a white ring, and it’s not you.” 

“I was going to give it back, I promise I--” 

“Hero, you don’t need to justify yourself for me. We’re all fighting to survive in this world. I understand.” 

Each breath of air Hyrule heaved through his lungs tasted like guilt, but he said nothing. 

“Hopefully it won't take too long for my friend to return the ring,” the moblin said. “I’m assuming you’ll stay here until then?” 

Hyrule nodded. 

“Very well. Relax, then. How about some lunch?” 

Hyrule crossed his arms, and, as if on cue, his stomach let out a loud, gurgling wail. 

“I’m assuming that sounds like a good arrangement to you?” the moblin asked. 

Hyrule finally nodded and returned to his seat, fiddling anxiously with the spot on his finger where the ring was supposed to be. Soup burbled over the fire. A golden ring of light flickered on the ground like a halo. The moblin made a face -- some sort of cross between a grimace and a smile -- that was clearly intended to be comforting, then handed him a bowl of soup and a roasted cuckoo leg. Fire crackled and utensils clinked as the two fell into a companionable silence. 

The soup was thick and gritty, watery and creamy at the same time and uniformly ashy in taste. Dim firelight glinted off the leathery cuckoo skin. A hint of stale meat met Hyrule's tongue as he took a bite, and what might have been a web of mold sparkled from within the reddish flesh.

Hyrule sighed and relished the familiar tastes.

"Is it good?" the moblin asked.

"Yeah," Hyrule responded, trying and failing to push away the smile on the corner of his lips. The taste of home danced on his tongue, and the urge to chatter crawled out from the recesses of his suppressed habits. “You know, it's been so long since I've had something like this. It's been so long since I've seen you. I mean, I didn't know that you would be...you know..."

“Still alive? I’m surprised too. It’s a curse, all things considered,” the moblin said, forcing a curt laugh.

"Why's that?" Hyrule asked.

“Well, then," the moblin said, a mischievous grin on his face, "which answer do you want? The pretty one or the one that’ll keep you up at night?”

Hyrule snorted in spite of himself. After all these years, the moblin's grim sense of humor hadn't changed in the slightest.

"You’re too kind to lie to me," the traveler responded.

"And that's the truth."

With those words, the conversation died. After a few moments of clunky, expectant silence, the moblin stood up.

"I'm going to grab something to drink. Hold tight," he said as he disappeared into the corner of the cave.

A few minutes passed, punctuated by the idle drumming of Hyrule's fingers on the surface of his shield and the distant sound of drinks being poured. The moblin returned with two massive glass cups of mead -- where and how the moblin had acquired either the cups or the drink itself was a mystery.

"Have some," the moblin said, extending a cup to Hyrule as he took a seat. "It'll help you wash everything down."

"Thank you, but I don't drink."

"Hmph. Fair," the moblin remarked, placing the cup in front of Hyrule anyway. Condensation sparkled on the glass like a city of diamonds, and clear tracks were left in the path where droplets trickled off and fell to the ground. The moblin alternated between swigs of his drink and bites of his lunch, his eyes trained all the while on the silent hero.

"What does it taste like?" Hyrule said at last, gesturing to the cup in front of him. The moblin opened his mouth, then closed it, then shrugged.

"I don't know. How about you give it a try?"

Hyrule rolled his eyes, then scrutinized the frothy bubbles floating on the top of the drink. He dipped the tip of his little finger into the cup, letting the honey-colored liquid trickle down the back of his hand before he cautiously tapped his finger to his tongue. 

"It can't be _that_ bad!" the moblin exclaimed, laughing at Hyrule's scrunched nose and comical expression.

"This is horrible!" Hyrule exclaimed, coughing and trying to wipe away the taste. "Aren't drinks supposed to make you less thirsty? I feel like I just took a sip of the Parapa Desert!"

The moblin howled, pressing his hands to his sides as the cave walls shook with laughter. Hyrule smiled to himself, picking at the scars on his face as he reveled in the feeling of making someone else laugh.

It felt nice.

"Ah, after all your years of adventuring, it’s good to see that you’ve finally acquired a sense of humor," the moblin said, finally calm enough to get a sentence out without stopping to snicker.

"I suppose I have," Hyrule said. His cheeks burned from smiling. A few seconds of silence passed, long enough for the laughter to fade but short enough to keep the perfume of light-heartedness in the air. 

"Link, there is actually something I wanted to ask you. It's a bit serious, though. May I?" 

The light-heartedness was gone. The molbin’s voice echoed mirthlessly. Hyrule nodded, his smile now as faint as the dying firelight.

“I’ve been really worried about you,” the moblin said. “And now that you’re awake, even more so.”

Hyrule sputtered. His joints creaked as he pressed himself against the cave wall.

“Why’s that?” Hyrule asked at last.

“You’ve changed. A lot.”

“Oh, c’mon, my haircut isn’t that bad.”

The moblin didn't laugh. A hot flush burned Hyrule's skin. He bit his cheek in embarrassment, waiting for the sound of his failed joke to fade away.

“You know exactly what I mean," the moblin continued. "Link, it’s been years since we’ve seen each other, yet I've always remembered you as the most suspicious, cunning, sneaky person I’ve ever met. But seeing you lying in the forest as vulnerable as you were when my friend and I found you...have you let your guard down?”

"What?" Hyrule spat, his words sharper than intended. The moblin recoiled.

“I’m sorry to ask you such a heavy question so soon after you’ve woken up. I’ve just been thinking about it ever since I found you. Here, remember when we first met? I thought you were going to kill me, haha!”

Comforted by the lighter tone of the moblin's voice, Hyrule eagerly played along. "“Well, I was. I didn’t know you were friendly until you tossed some rupees at me.”

“Fair, fair. But even after that, you remained one of the most suspicious people I’ve ever met. And not in the sense that I thought something was up with you, but that you thought something was up with others. Always. You know what I mean? Always silent, always looking...a paragon of cautiousness.”

"Yeah," Hyrule said, trying to shrug off the memories. "Yeah, that was pretty much me."

The moblin's eyes narrowed. Hyrule sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“I would have never thought, never in a million years, that I would find the Hero of Hyrule half naked and half dead in the middle of the forest.”

Acid rose from the bottom of Hyrule's stomach. The scars feathered across his face and chest burned, and his lips nearly slipped into the familiar incantation of the Reflect Spell.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

His magic receded back within him, but his composure was lost.

“I make mistakes, you know," Hyrule hissed.

"And, pray tell, what were those mistakes?"

"..."

"Link, talk to me. I want to help."

Hyrule shoved his face into his hands. The cup of mead on his lap spilled from the sudden movement.

The glass shattered into a million pieces.

Sickness surged to the tip of Hyrule's tongue, a blistering-hot host of poisoned memories and bleeding fingertips and broken legs and loneliness and the taste of cowardice and cracked magic rings and--

A hand settled on his shoulder.

"Link."

The hero held his breath and locked eyes with the moblin. His soul recoiled from the compassion in the monster's gaze.

"Link, you’ve changed. And whatever that change was, or whatever that change caused you to do, has hurt you. Someone, some _thing_ has hurt you. Am I right?"

Hyrule said nothing, watching the water droplets shimmer on the shattered glass.

"Hero, what hurt you?"

Silence.

"Hero, _who_ hurt you?"

Hyrule's face crumpled in pain. He drew into himself, pulling his knees to his chin and placing his hands over his head. His hand grazed his collarbone and came to a stop at the dip of his ribcage, where his heart reluctantly beat.

If emotional wounds were real, there would be a deep, crimson gash beneath his fingertips.

The moblin tightened his grip on Hyrule's shoulder until the hero's breathing evened out. Hyrule ran a hand down his face, relieved at the dryness of his skin, and gently shrugged away the moblin.

"It's my fault,” Hyrule said at last. 

“No, it isn’t. I’m sure it isn’t.” 

The Hero of Hyrule dragged a breath up through his nostrils. His fingernails dug into his skin, leaving a galaxy of reddish half-crescents behind. A thousand truths and a thousand confessions burned at the tip of his tongue, but he waited until the water in his eyes and the adrenaline in his blood faded away. 

He looked up, and the desperation in his eyes reflected in the moblin’s own. 

“You don’t understand,” the traveler whispered, “this is _all_ my fault.” 

  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[*-1][*2]

"Three more days, Captain. Three more days."

Wild's words dissipated on the midday wind. Warriors shook his head absently, blinking quickly against the harsh daylight. 

"We don't know if he's there," the captain responded, eyes fixated on the road ahead.

Wild sighed. "I mean, that's true, but we have to hope." 

"If only hope had more tangible results," Warriors muttered under his breath, trying to stifle the prickle of guilt when he saw Wild tense up at his words. The captain let out an uncomfortable breath and picked at the silk of his scarf. Looking for something to distract himself with, he unscrewed the top of the map tube clipped to his belt. With sweaty, red fingers, the captain unfurled the map, trying and failing to slide the sun’s harsh glare off the glossy parchment. Despite his efforts, it was still nearly impossible to read. 

No matter. 

He had already memorized the path to Nabooru Town. 

“We should have gone to the town first thing,” the captain murmured, trailing his fingers along the frayed edge of the map. Wild peeled a sheaf of sweaty hair from his forehead and glanced at the captain. An ever-present gentleness shone under the vibrant blue of his eyes. 

“I respectfully disagree,” Wild began. “Your original plan was fantastic -- very, uh, forward-thinking, if that makes sense. You’re doing a great job. I don’t think you were mistaken in having us sweep Maze Island and the Northern Mountains first.” 

The captain cringed under the weight of the compliment. “I think I was. We wasted so much time. _I_ wasted so much time.” 

Wild’s gaze grew pointed and argumentative, but the only thing the champion did was chew his bottom lip and fan his face. The sound of crackly, off-tune singing echoed from up ahead -- Wind had apparently convinced Sky and the Royal Guardsmen to join him for yet another round of sea shanties. Time’s distant murmuring melded with Twilight’s grunts of agreement and Four’s intermittent comments. 

Legend was alone.

Warriors sighed. 

The skin under his pauldron burned and his tongue was impossibly dry; the dust kicked up by the others farther along the dirt path settled on his eyelashes and made his eyes ache. The leather soles of Warriors’ boots burned the bottom of his feet and the smell of sweat was nauseating. Warriors’ eyes flickered to Wild, who had turned concerningly pale under the hateful midday sun. 

Warriors unfurled the map again and lost himself in the faint, flaking ink. 

“I was such an idiot,” he mumbled, “I should have at least sent _one_ person to town. Wind. Or maybe you. Oh Hylia…” 

He started walking faster, lost in the neurotic labyrinth of his thoughts. Wild lagged behind despite his half-hearted attempts to keep up, muttering something about it being a terrible idea for Warriors to wear his scarf that tight. The captain ignored him, letting his eyes drift across the clearing and fixate on Legend. He had sidled up to Twilight -- an increasingly common occurrence these days -- and still carried himself with his signature bombast and swagger. Barring the gnarled, brownish cut on his cheekbone and the bloody bandages wrapped around his fingers, he looked like a paradigm of health and calm. 

“Or I could have sent Legend…” Warriors mused. “Take a look at how close the rancher and veteran are standing to each other,” Warriors continued, tapping on Wild’s shoulder and gesturing to the pair of heroes up ahead. “They’ve been sticking together an awful lot lately. Do you think they’re planning something? I swear to Hylia there’s something weird about the way the veteran looks at me these days. His eyes get so...I don’t know how to describe it. Gentle? Somber? It’s like he’s looking at a baby or something.” 

“...pity?” Wild suggested. 

“What is there to pity?” Warriors retorted. 

Wild glanced at the captain’s uncombed hair, eyebags, and pimple-ridden face, then shrugged. 

“I dunno,” the champion finally said, his words low and gravelly. “You might be overreacting. Remember what you said a few weeks ago? About letting our pasts stain our presents or something like that?” 

Warriors flushed at the sound of his own warning being repeated back to him. Wild wiped a fresh sheet of sweat off his forehead. 

“Hey, can we walk in the shade?” Wild asked. 

“No. We have to stay on the path. We can’t risk running into monsters right now.” 

Wild glanced at the dirt road beneath his feet, opened his mouth, then shut it. A chill went down Warriors’ spine when he glimpsed the submissiveness in the champion’s expression. 

“Hey,” Warriors said, “if you have something to say, don’t be afraid to say it.” 

“...” 

“Wild, it’s okay. You don’t need to mince your words around me.” 

The champion sighed airly. Sweat dripped off his nose and eyelashes, and his posture was uncharacteristically crooked. 

“...my stomach hurts,” Wild whispered. 

“What?” 

Wild smiled, then promptly fainted. 

Warriors lunged. His foot caught on the edge of his scarf. The silk constricted around his neck, his mouth filled with metal, his breathing halted, his thoughts turned to static, and the fading fragments of his focus fixated on Wild’s collapsing form. 

Warriors caught Wild just before he hit the ground. 

“Wild! Warriors!” a distant voice cried. 

“Oh Hylia, I think the champion passed out,” another one exclaimed. 

“Does anyone have water? Give him water!” 

“Get both of them in the shade first,” Time commanded, his steely voice cutting through the panic. 

Footsteps thundered towards them. Warriors grunted as he lifted Wild to his feet, muttering unintelligibly as the others sprinted to their aid. Sky and Time rushed Wild to a shady cluster of trees at the side of the road. The guardsmen followed on their heels, spears poised to attack any monster that might leap out of the musky vegetation. Time shouted to Four and Wind to rejoin the group before they could wander out of earshot, and Legend helped Warriors hobble over to the shade. The Links clustered in a semicircle around Wild, who had been gingerly propped up against a tree. 

Sky pulled out a bottle of water and used it to wet a corner of his sailcloth. As he wiped down Wild’s face with the damp fabric, Wind and Four helped lie the champion flat on his back and prop up his legs. 

“Potion, potion! Does anyone have a potion?” Warriors cried.

“Would a fairy tonic work?” Four asked, picking up Wild’s sheikah slate. After a few terse moments of fiddling with the device, a long-necked bottle sparkling with pink liquid materialized in front of the smithy. Four glanced up at Warriors as if asking for permission and, after receiving it in the form of a curt nod, pressed the bottle to Wild’s lips. Twilight and Time crouched beside the champion, the former smoothing back his hair and the latter taking his pulse. Legend drew the ice rod from his bag and laid it on Wild’s chest. A wave of coolness spread through the group, and the tightness in Wild’s face faded. 

Warriors took a seat at Wild’s feet and shooed the curious guardsmen away. “Gentlemen, please. Don’t crowd around him. If we stress him out and he might faint again.” 

“Will he be okay?” one guard asked. 

“He’ll be fine,” Warriors responded. “We’ll get going in about half an hour. Everyone sit tight until then.” 

“No.” 

All eyes turned to Time.

“Excuse me?” Warriors asked, his face already red from embarrassment. 

“We’re not going anywhere,” Time continued. “We will wait here, for however long it takes, until Wild feels well again.” 

“We don’t have time!” 

“Warriors, I will not lose another boy.” 

A chill fell over the group. 

Warriors stood up uneasily, biting his lip until the skin flaked and peeled under his teeth. Colors leaked into the corners of his vision as he pulled his scarf around his neck so tightly that blood thundered against the back of his eyes. He cringed as the fabric rubbed against the sore skin of his neck. He must have hurt himself when he fell. 

“Then I’ll go to Nabooru Town myself.” 

Both of Time’s eyes narrowed. 

**“I will not lose another boy.”**

The group was silent, observing the silent standoff between their two leaders with creased eyebrows and uneasy breathing. 

At last, Warriors sighed and sat down.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Makeshift camp was set up around the spot where Wild slept. A tarp was hung over a few branches and a campfire was made to keep the group warm as the nighttime chill set in. Four, Wind, Sky, Time, and the Royal Guard patrolled the surrounding forest for monsters while Legend, Twilight, and Warriors tended to Wild. 

It seemed like the chill of night, combined with the copious amount of sleep and snacks, had helped nurse the champion back to health. At least, that’s what Warriors could deduct. He scooted closer to Wild, analyzing the softness in his expression and the gentle flutter of his eyes underneath his eyelids. With shaking fingers, Warriors tucked Wild’s blanket around the latter’s sleeping figure and up under his chin. 

“He’ll be fine,” Legend said. “Don’t worry too much.” 

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Warriors retorted. 

“I wasn’t talking about Wild,” Legend responded. The campfire cast a reddish glare over the veteran’s figure as he leaned against a tree trunk. “I just know it. He’ll be fine.” 

The skin of Warriors’ back prickled at the coolness in Legend’s eyes. A now-familiar suspicion hammered at the back of his mind. Warriors pushed it away, but the thought left an icy taste in his mouth. The captain pulled the scarf off from around his neck, taking in a deep breath and ignoring the necklace of bruises his stumble had left behind. 

Time slipped by. Wild slumbered on as Twilight began making dinner -- something that he was surprisingly adept at. The veteran and the rancher whispered hushed, secretive words to each other as stew bubbled over the fire and the first few guardsmen returned from patrol. Four and Wind followed soon after, with Time and Sky on their heels. Dinner was as silent as always, with participants returning to their posts as soon as their bowls were licked dry. Warriors watched the wordless proceedings with a deep sense of unease, his gaze flickering between the serious, graven faces of the young guardsmen. 

“How is patrol so far?” Warriors asked as he took a seat by a lanky, freckled guardsman. The knight startled from the sudden noise, then grew shy as he processed exactly who was sitting next to him. 

“Oh...it’s okay…only a few bits and bots...Toba and I bumped into a lizalfos but we were able to kill it with the sailor’s help.” The guardsman looked down at his stew and the tip of his boots, clearly fixated on staring at anything but the man next to him. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Warriors asked. “It’s been a tremendously stressful day. Do you need a break? I could swap out for you, if you would like.”

“No, no..thank you, though. I’m good. I don’t want you to feel pressured to leave for my sake. And, uh, it must have been a bad day for you too. I, uh, I hope you’re doing alright.” 

The guardsman chuckled nervously. Warriors wrung his hand in his scarf and plastered on his cleanest, waxiest smile. 

“Please, don’t worry about me. I’m used to this. How’s the food?” 

“...it’s good…thank you….” 

“Glad to hear that. Hey, do you know any good stories? Campfire stories or maidens’ tales or something of that sort?” Warriors asked, trying desperately to salvage the dying conversation. A few curious guardsmen looked up from their bowls with renewed interest in the scene in front of them. 

“Not especially,” the guardsman said, visibly shrinking away from the attention placed on him. “I might know one or two, but not any good ones.” 

“How about the story about the barmaid and the traveling merchant?” one guardsman suggested. 

“No, no, the story about the farmer and the fig trees is way more funny,” another said, his suggestion met by a wave of laughter and agreement. 

“How about the Legend of Zelda?” the smallest of them said, his eyes alight with excitement. 

All the other guardsmen groaned. 

“Mika, nobody wants to hear a history lesson right now.” 

“So boring…” 

“What is there to tell?” a bearded guardsman questioned. “Once upon a time a princess was put under a sleeping spell. The Hero of Hyrule reawakened her, and now she’s the queen. That’s it. That’s the story.” 

Mika grew frustrated, sputtering angrily about how the other guardsmen needed to show more respect for their queen and her, quite literally, legendary status. The others shrugged it off, far more interested in sharing some raunchy barside story with the captain than the intricacies of their kingdom’s history and monarchy. 

“Well, there’s one story I’ve heard a lot about,” Warriors said, trying to speak above the irritated clamor. “Your hero actually shared it with me a long time ago -- he said it was his favorite.” 

The chatter stopped. Logs creaked as the guardsmen leaned forward to hear Warriors’ next words. 

“Well? What story was it?” Mika asked. 

Warriors grinned, silently congratulating himself on revitalizing the campfire conversation. He inhaled deeply and spread his arms to his side in a nearly conspiratorial gesture.

“The Legend of the Firefly Princess,” he said at last. 

Dead silence. 

The guardsmen said nothing. Even Mika was lost for words; apparently his empty bowl of stew had suddenly taken all of his interest. 

“...the Hero has a strange taste in favorite stories…” someone finally whispered. An uncomfortable, terse wave of agreement spread through the group. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” Warriors asked, confused by the awkward tension in the air. 

“No, of course not,” Mika stammered. 

No more explanation was provided. 

Dinner slipped backwards into silence once more. The guardsmen hurried to finish their dinner, tossing their bowls into a haphazard pile beside the campfire before shuffling off to their posts. The other heroes came and went, saying nothing more than a short “hello,” “thank you for the food,” and “goodbye” before fading back into the forest. 

Seconds, minutes, and hours slipped by. Twilight slumbered peacefully by Wild’s side. Legend snuggled underneath the covers of his bedroll and drifted off into the land of dreams. Only the occasional rustle of leaves and grumbling of far-away monsters broke the cool quiet. 

Warriors was the only one still awake. 

He dug through his bag and pulled out his sketchbook and the elegant, gold-rimmed pen Four had given him. With slow, half-hearted movements, he sidled up to the fire and pressed the pen tip to the paper. Tiny, sharp-edged shapes flowed from the pen tip. Crisp spirals melded with immaculate hatching and beautiful ribbons of ink. The geometry of his mind spilled itself onto the page, a collection of angular worries and faded shadows and thoughts too dark to dwell on for any longer than a heartbeat. 

Four snored. 

Fire crackled. 

Pen scratched. 

And a picture came into being beneath Warriors’ fingertips. 

Stocky rectangles sculpted themselves into Time and Twilight’s muscular, divaricate forms. An interlocking web of hexagons and squares coalesced into Four, an ocean of swirls and arrows created the scaffolding of Wind’s hair and smile, a spiraling starburst hardened into Wild. A thread of pillowy ink blossomed into Sky and a string of tight, square lace turned into a geometric reflection of himself, standing at friendly attention around a sprinkling of hard-edged triangles in the shape of Legend. 

The geometric ghosts of his brothers hung in an enthusiastic circle on the page, staring up at their creator with inky, patient smiles. 

Warriors’ fingers trembled. 

His pen drifted to the center of the page. 

And a supernova of elegant circles and stars coalesced into Hyrule’s brilliant, beaming figure. 

The firelight dipped the drawing in gold, reflecting brilliant streaks of crimson and silver off of the drawing’s black ink. Hyrule’s smile grew luminescent and loving in the faint light.

Warriors gave the drawing one last, loving look before tossing it into the fire. 

  
  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  
  


[*-2][*3]

Hyrule closed his eyes and ignored the burning in his joints and legs. His feet moved in small, deft circles, the cloth of his tights covering his feet growing frayed and dirty as they grazed against the cave floor. Freezing droplets dripped from the overhead stalactites and trickled down Hyrule's bare back. The water cooled in the grooves between his muscles, slithering down the bumps of his spine. He paid it no mind. 

The dense, musty smell of the cave was oppressive. Whether it was night or day, he didn't know. Whether it had been three months or three minutes since he woke up, he didn't know. Whether the others missed him or not...

Hyrule swallowed thickly, cringing from the taste of dust and too-loud-thoughts.

Part of him wished he was still asleep. 

"Focus, focus!" he whispered to himself, scrunching his eyes so tight that rings of color danced in the corners of his vision. His feet moved quicker. The fabric of his tights creaked and groaned with each step. The traveler let his body melt into a practiced rhythm and let his psyche slide into silence. He dredged his vitality through his veins, forcing his spirit up through the bottom of his stomach to the tips of his fingers. His sweat intermingled with the stalactites’ teardrops, his muscles flared with pain, his legs burned with fatigue, and the smell of magic sputtered its way to the tip of his fingers. 

The traveler let out a shuddering sigh of relief, marveling at the faint glow of light dancing atop his fingernails and knuckles. A gust of fridgid, stagnant wind crept up from the cave floor and chilled the traveler back into focus. Hyrule furrowed his brow and flexed his fingers, letting every muscle in every digit unbundle at its own pace. 

And a shimmering, crimson rope of flame exploded from his hands. 

Hyrule laughed out loud, letting the fire bounce and snap between his digits. Puffs of charcoal and smoke filtered through the air. The skin of his neck warmed from the flame, breaking out in goosebumps as a familiar warmth and smell burrowed under his pores. What a strange thing his magic was; the perfume of the Fire Spell was almost as dear to him as the smile of a long-lost friend. Hyrule's movements gradually melted from harsh, sudden movements into a strangely-masculine ballet. The flames in his hand danced along, brightening from crimson to ivory, then to an impossible shade of cerulean. Hyrule's breath bundled in disbelief as a foreign wave of focus and vitality throbbed underneath his skin.

Could he still....? 

His muscles stretched in swan-like arcs and twirls, and the flames dancing around his body turned to ice. 

Sheets of blue burst out from his fingertips and slid up the cave walls. The ice sparkled like diamonds. His magic spiderwebbed around and under the ground, breaking off chunks of rock beneath its freezing grip. The aroma of winter blended with the faint smell of fire, and Hyrule's eyes watered as he looked at his creation. 

He could. 

"Link? Are you there?" 

Hyrule froze, snapping his head towards the sound. A wave of heat burst from his fingers, melting the glittering chiffon of ice clinging to the floor and walls. His breath hitched, then relaxed as the moblin's silhouette approached, partially illuminated by the lantern the monster carried in front of him.

"I made some tea for both of us. Cinnamon tea. Or, at least, that's what I think it is." The moblin's lantern swung haphazardly, dangling from his pinky finger as he struggled to keep a hold on the tea tray. “It's cold in here, what are you up to?" 

"Nothing...well...nothing interesting," Hyrule lied. The lantern's light washed over him as the moblin approached, illuminating his wiry form. Hyrule blushed and hung his head as the moblin’s face twisted in confusion at the sight of his getup.

"Only tights, huh? You're better off wearing nothing at all, if you're at that point," the moblin remarked, a playful smirk on his face.

Hyrule blushed violently and shuffled over to his cot. He dug underneath his hammock sheets before pulling out his crumpled tunic and mud-crusted boots. The hero shoved himself into both articles of clothing and shambled ungracefully to his friend. 

"So dramatic," the moblin mumbled. Hyrule chuckled awkwardly, yet the corners of the moblin's lips were pricked upwards into a smile. With a huff, the moblin sat himself and the tea tray on the floor, then gestured for Hyrule to join him. The hero took an awkward seat beside the monster, trying and failing to find comfort in the other's friendly aura. A deep discomfort knotted and twisted at the bottom of his stomach, and the flowery smell of hot tea and gentle words did little to calm the churning atop his diaphragm. 

Part of him hoped the others didn't miss him. 

A larger part of him guiltily wished they did. 

"You're thinking about them again," the moblin said. Steam clouded into the air as the monster poured a cup of tea and handed it to Hyrule.The hero did nothing, then nodded, accepting both the tea and the implications of the moblin's words. A thick silence hung in the air before the moblin continued. "I know it pains you to hear this, but it needs to be said. Those men that you were with -- whoever they are -- don't deserve to see the light of day ever again." 

"You don't know them," Hyrule said. His words carried the submissive exhaustion of a man who had convinced himself but knew he couldn't do the same to others. 

"They left you to die. I don't know who they are, but I don't care. They used you. They manipulated you. When my friend returns with your fixed ring -- as I know he will -- and you go off on your way -- as I know you will -- your blood will be on your own hands if they kill you." 

"Please..." 

"Hero, remember the world you live in. You cannot let your guard down. You cannot give in. You cannot let others manipulate you. If someone wants you dead, you kill them first." 

The hero hung his head. The retaliation the moblin had grown to expect over the past week did not come. 

"Can you just trust me?" Hyrule said at last, an unnerving softness in his voice.

"Maybe you, but not them. They've done nothing to deserve my trust, and definitely not yours." 

A heavy silence hung between them. Hyrule's tea remained untouched. The steam curling from the teaspout had grown translucent. The hero idly reached out for the saucer of sugar cubes and picked a few to roll about in his hands, watching specks of white crumble into his palm.

"Let's not talk about this anymore," he said at last. 

The moblin nodded in wordless respect. Hyrule popped the sugar cubes in his mouth and relished the subtle, sweet sparkle of the treat. The vitality his earlier magic practice had drained from him came back in increments, and the hero munched mindlessly on the sugar cubes as his mind wandered to familiar places. 

"What do you think of the tea?" the moblin suddenly asked. Hyrule glanced at his untouched cup and bit his lip. 

"I, uh..." 

"Haven't touched it, huh? You're quite predictable, hero. I respect that." 

That was the only apology Hyrule was going to get. 

The hero took it with soundless gratitude, reaching out to drain his teacup in silent thanks. The moblin watched with poorly-hidden mirth as Hyrule's nose scrunched up and the hero set the teacup back down with a grimace. 

"Euuugh! What did you put in there?" Hyrule accused. His face twisted in disgust so poignant it overshadowed his sharp cheekbones the unhealthy pallor of his visage.

"Only cinnamon...you usually like that stuff." the moblin said with a genial shrug. "Maybe it's all that sugar you've been eating. Magic practice again?" 

"...yeah..." 

"Listen, you can just tell me if you want sugar water. It's probably better for your teeth than just crunching on the sugar cubes whole. Or I can put some sugar into your normal food. You don't eat enough real stuff. Sure, sugar is good for replenishing magic, but you’ve also got to replenish your body. You're only going to get sicker if you don't take care of yourself." 

"I'm not sick."

The moblin piqued the monstrous equivalent of an eyebrow, but pushed the conversation no further. The two friends eventually settled into casual conversation, bumping only once or twice into secrets and contentious subjects before carefully maneuvering the discussion in a different direction. They talked about magic, about hair, about fairies and buttercups and weapons and funny things they had heard in the past. Hyrule cracked a handful of improvised jokes and beamed when the moblin laughed -- a deep, rumbling sound that almost made it feel like everything in the world was alright again.

And for a moment, it really was. 

Time passed by, and their conversation eventually dissipated in favor of contemplative silence. Coolness seeped from the cave roof, a suggestion that night had finally fallen over the kingdom. Another day gone, and yet there was still no mention of the ring. Hyrule tried not to let his lips flicker downward. 

"You know, I'm really glad we had this chat," the moblin said. 

"What do you mean?" 

The moblin gave him a long, sidelong stare before glancing away. The leathery folds of the monster's face twisted in agony, and he said no more. 

"Is everything alright?" Hyrule asked. 

The taste of sugar grew stale in Hyrule's mouth. Tea cups clinked against porcelain saucers. Condensation dripped off the teapot's sides. Hyrule shivered as the stalactites above wept, sprinkling their tears onto his thin tunic. 

"Put on your coat," the moblin said. His voice was almost inaudible over the twinkling of water droplets above. "There's someone waiting outside for you." 

"Who?" 

"The person you've been waiting for." 

"Wait, your friend with the ring?"

"..." 

"Wait, wait, wait, I can finally go home? Tell me, listen to me, can I go home now? Should I pack up? Wait, I need to clean my boots. And brush my hair. Hold on, do you have a brush? Never mind, I can just use my fingers. Do you have a spare sword? I don't want to just rely on my magic. Man, I hope the other guys have my sword. And my shield and bag, too."

Hyrule scrambled to his feet and buzzed about the cave, tossing miscellaneous items in a pillowcase as he rambled on and on with a fool's smile on his face. The moblin watched him with silent eyes. 

"I have a bag already prepared for you," the moblin said. "Come with me." 

Hyrule dropped the pillowcase in his hand and trailed after the moblin. His grin sat askew on his face and his hair stuck out at the odd angles his hand-grooming had twisted it into. Their footsteps echoed off the tight, corridor walls, growing deeper as the underground latticework grew broader and wider before finally bringing them to the mouth of the cave. A homely arrangement of domestic trinkets stood scattered around the cave entrance: a lumpy couch, a few poorly-made portraits propped against the wall, a coat rack, and a small, oil lantern sitting on a rickety nightstand. The moblin handed Hyrule a leather bag brimming with potions, weapons, and a box of sugar cubes for good measure. 

"Oh...I don't need all of this,” Hyrule stammered. “I shouldn't be traveling for too long. I just---" 

"Please. For my sake. I want to watch you go knowing that I did all I could to ensure that you are safe." 

The hero nodded, strapping the bag to his back with uncomfortable solemnity. 

"One more thing," the moblin said. He disappeared into a corner of the room, then returned with a flowing overcoat that shined in the lantern light. "An octorock hide coat. It's my best one. Take it. You'll need it more than me." 

"I---" 

"Please." 

Hyrule nodded guiltily, slipping on the coat and sighing as a wave of warmth enveloped him. 

The two stepped outside the cave, greeted by a world drenched in night. Moonlight glinted off the trees and the smell of rain hung like cinnamon over the silent forest. Hyrule inhaled fresh air for the first time in a month, every fibre in his lungs vibrating from the overwhelming sweetness. The moblin watched as Hyrule relished in the feeling of freedom, then placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"My friend is here. Are you ready to go?" 

"Yes. Yes, absolutely. Thank you for everything."

"Very well then," the moblin said. "I guess this is where we say goodbye." 

"Will I see you again?" Hyrule asked, his heart beating faster as the warmth of the cave grew cold and memorial. 

"I don't know. I hope we will. I really hope we will." 

The moblin turned away and descended into the cave. Hyrule shivered, realizing it was the first time he had been truly alone since the day he left the others. 

A wave of shame burned beneath his skin. 

"Is anyone here?" Hyrule called to the forest, seeing no hint of the friend the moblin had talked so highly of. 

There was a rustle in the distance, then the heavy, methodical thump of hooves on wet stone. A shadow detached itself from the forest, massive and hulkling, inching forward at the pace comparable to that of a toddling child. 

A stream of moonlight shot through the clouds, illuminating the figure in front of him. 

And before him stood a massive lynel, bowing in reverence to the Hero of Hyrule. 

  
  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  
  
  


[*-3][*4]

He wasn't there. 

Warriors paced through the streets of Nabooru Town, refusing to meet the nervous, apologetic eyes of the ragged townspeople. His footsteps were halting and uneven. His scarf was too tight around his neck. The skin of his cheeks peeled in translucent sheets from the steaming sun. His eyes watered from the sunlight. 

It took all of his focus to keep his back straight and his head held high. 

He wasn't there. 

The blood in his veins grew frothy. Neon circles of light danced in the corners of his vision. 

"Captain," one of the guardsmen called, trailing after Warriors' retreating form. "We checked the southern and northern parts of town. No one's seen him. Some of them didn't even know he was gone." 

"Where are the others?" Warriors asked, refusing to meet the guardsman's eyes. 

"I'm --- well, your teammates are still out looking. I think they're doing a scout of the city perimeter right now. The other guardsmen are double checking the marketplace and talking to the vendors there in case anyone slipped through our fingers." 

A saturated shadow fell over Warriors' eyes. He turned around sharply. The guardsman shuffled backwards, eyes wide. 

"Tell everyone to get back to the inn."

"But sir, we still might find him. We can't give up now, the hero might still--"

"He's not here. Tell everyone to get back to the inn."

The guardsman swallowed his words. He shivered at the ice and steel in Warriors' voice, then gave a sharp bow. 

"Of course, sir." 

The footsteps faded behind him. Warriors rested his chin against his collarbone. His scarf fluttered in the wind. His shadow stood out starkly against the white sand of the ground beneath him. 

He was alone. 

Feet shuffled beneath him, grounding up clouds of sediment in their wake. His posture grew curved. His arms dangled in front of him. The base of his spine ached from the sudden weight. Sweat sprinkled off his face. He didn't wipe it away. 

The sand beneath him turned to scrabbly cobblestone, then to the smooth adobe flooring of the inn. The innkeeper gave Warriors a flat, factory-made smile, dropping it immediately when she saw the shadows on Warriors' face. Without a word or greeting or comfort, the innkeeper tossed Warriors his keys and darted into the cafeteria. 

Warriors watched her go. 

He didn't bother to fix his posture as he ascended the staircase and stumbled into his room. 

Calling it a room was a generous exaggeration. There was nothing roomy or homey about it -- it was more of a depressing cubicle than anything else. A sliver of a bed sat crammed in the corner. A rickety counter was pressed up against the opposite wall, creaking under the weight of Warriors' maps and pens. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling like silver lace and fluttered in the stifling, dusky air. 

Spiders and cockroaches watched as Warriors wiped down his boots and placed them in the corner, then washed his sweat-crusted uniform in a tin tub he had filled with water and soap. Bubbles spun through the air as Warriors washed and combed his hair, pulled on a thin linen nightgown, and placed a thin veneer of cream on his pimple-ridden face. His reflection stared back at him from the cracked vanity glass above the nightstand, brows low in salutation and consternation.

In one gentle, soundless movement, Warriors plucked his sketchbook off the counter and took a seat on his bed.

He pressed his back against the wall. 

He opened the sketchbook. 

He flipped through the pages. 

He was regal. 

Calm. 

A perfect picture of elegance. 

Warriors’ eyes fluttered downwards as they settled on the most recent drawing.

“I know what happened to him,” the captain said. His blue eyes locked with the black, beady ones of mice and rats blinking up through the floorboards. “I know what happened to the Hero of Hyrule. And I know who did it.” 

The rats and bugs said nothing. 

Warriors brushed his fingers along the drawing. His fingers came away wet, stained with red ink. 

His first instinct was to bandage them.

_Hah_.

_Ironic_. 

“I know who did it,” the captain repeated. 

Silence. 

“And I’m going to kill him.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Chapter 13 will be coming out soon. Please don't be afraid to leave a comment and let me know about whatever questions, comments, or concerns you have. I respond to each and every comment I get! I'm still going through some of the comments on Chapter 12, but rest assured I will get to everything. I appreciate you all so much. Please stay safe during this crazy time, and I hope that you liked this chapter and that you'll like the ones to come!


	13. The Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warriors and Atlas have a lot in common.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I said Chapter 13 would be coming out soon, so I tried to deliver :D 
> 
> Some housekeeping things before we begin. 
> 
> 1- This chapter is a late birthday gift to my incredible and wonderful friend Moria. Not only is she just a wonderful and energetic person to be around, but she also has one of the most unique and lovely artstyles I’ve ever seen. If you like Linked Universe and you also like good art, I highly recommend that you saunter over to her instagram (@moriafriend). You have my word that you will not regret it. Happy (super belated) birthday, Moria! I hope you like this chapter. 
> 
> 2- This chapter has some disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is very much advised. 
> 
> 3- Recommended vibes! Here they are, in order of their appearance. 
> 
> [*1] Heart Upon My Sleeve:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWTERP6UA5Q&ab_channel=BobBaumeister 
> 
> [*2] Great Fairy Fountain (Music Box):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7LMhwMLoBWU&t=624s&ab_channel=SoraEdelstein 
> 
> [*3] A Peaceful Place:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWhEhLBfsWA&t=116s&ab_channel=KorraLegends 
> 
> [*4] Under Siege:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JifUWjciiMA&t=1134s&ab_channel=Sun 
> 
> [*5] Eclipse of the Moon:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kN62nUr6do&ab_channel=Sun 
> 
> Alright! That’s all I had to say. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

[*1]

"Uh, I'm sorry, what was the question again?" 

Legend stifled a sigh. The fruit vendor smiled apologetically, her face tight with embarrassment as she tried to placate her three crying children. 

“Momma, I’m tired.” 

“I wanna go homeeeeee...” 

“I’m hungry!!” 

Twilight and Legend shared a glance. Beside them, Wild smiled. 

"Hey kids," the champion declared, crouching down and pulling out his Sheikah Slate. "Check out this cool toy I've got! I'll let you play with it if you're quiet and let Momma talk." 

The children grew cautious and curious, forgetting their earlier troubles as they clustered around Wild and his 'cool toy.' Twilight took a seat next to the champion, pulling off his coat and draping it over the trio of toddlers. Cries for attention faded away, replaced by thoughtful silence and the hum of the Sheikah Slate. The woman let out a sigh of relief and turned to Legend. 

“I’m so so sorry about that. My kids tend to get, uh, very needy this late in the day.” 

“No worries,” Legend said, eyes lingering on Twilight and Wild. “We were just wondering if you’ve heard any news about the Hero of Hyrule.” 

“Oh dear, did something happen to him?” 

_ Woman, just answer the question.  _

“Something like that, yes. We wanted to know if you or anyone else you know has seen him over the past few days.” 

One of the kids started crying. Twilight picked her up and bounced her on his hip until she stopped, wiping away snot and tear stains with his thumb. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t heard anything,” the woman confessed. A knot turned in Legend’s stomach. “I”m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Legend shook his head, trying to ignore the numbness growing in his chest. 

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am. Thank you for your time. You have a lovely family, by the way.” 

The woman stuttered and blushed, placing a hand over her pregnant stomach as she thanked Legend. "Would you all like any apples?" she asked, pointing to the fruit stall she sat behind. "You must have been asking these questions to a lot of people, and I imagine you all are quite hungry." 

"How much?" Wild asked. The toddlers whimpered as the champion put away his Sheikah Slate. 

"On the house. Take as many as you'd like. It's the least I could do to help." 

Wild picked out a few apples as Twilight said his goodbyes to the children and Legend adjusted the baldric on his shoulder. The champion waved to the small family as he and Twilight headed down the street, distracting the vendor as Legend placed some rupees on the stalltop and dashed to meet up with the group. 

“Nice,” Wild said, tossing Legend an apple. The veteran smiled. 

It didn’t reach his eyes. 

"I think we might need to head back to the inn," Twilight said through a mouthful of apple. "We've been here for hours. Perhaps Warriors will know if there's any other place that we need to check, because I don't think we're going to find anything here." 

Wild and Legend grimaced in agreement. Around them, the marketplace buzzed with the quiet bustle of early dusk. Sleepy-eyed vendors folded up their stalls and wheeled away their goods, tired feet bound for home. Children played hopscotch in the slowly-emptying streets. Bored teens challenged each other to twig sword duels. Stray cats padded through the streets and nibbled on dropped food while red-breasted birds flitted through the air. 

"Legend, aren't you going to eat your apple?" Wild asked. 

"I'm not hungry." 

"You were complaining about how hungry you were five minutes ago!"

Legend ignored Wild and walked a little faster. The champion trotted to keep up. Twilight fell behind, furrowed eyebrows casting a shadow over his face. 

"Hey, don't worry," Wild began, placing a gentle hand on Legend’s shoulder. "We'll find him. We'll find him, and we'll find him soon. Isn't that what you keep telling me? He's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Isn't that what you always say?" 

Wild smiled. 

Legend didn't. 

"I just want to be left alone for a bit," Legend whispered. 

"Sure, I--"

Twilight pulled up to the group. "Legend, I know that this is stressing you out, but let's stick together until we get to the inn. There might be comforting news there. And anyway, we don't need anyone else getting lost." 

Wild bit his lip. Legend said nothing, then nodded in reluctant agreement. 

The walk back to the inn was a silent one. Swarms of people passed by, bundled against the cold breeze, oblivious to Wild's tight face, Twilight's shallow breathing, Legend's wet eyes, Names were called, games were played, dinner was cooked. The warmth of memories being made glowed in the air, bounced from open windows and open hearts, gleamed off the dust in the air. 

Legend felt like a crow among swans. 

They slinked into the inn, sighing with relief at the warmth in the air. The lobby was heavy with the smell of vanilla and flour, and a golden fire crackled in the hearth. 

The warmth turned to a chill when Legend caught sight of the others. 

Sky paced around the lobby. Four sat next to the fire, a vacant look in his eyes. Wind was seated on a plush chair far too large for him. The sailor wasn't even pretending to smile.

There was no need to ask if they had found anything. 

"Where's Warriors?" Wild asked, not bothering to waste time with formalities. 

"Up in his room," Four rasped. 

That was no surprise. The man had probably already heard about how grand a failure the expedition was. He was most likely drawing up a new plan of attack. 

"Has anyone seen the old man?" Twilight asked as he took a seat on the couch. 

Sky cracked his knuckles and shook his head. "He’s checking the town hall and market place.” 

Wild's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "We just went to both of those places and didn’t hear anything. He’s not going to find anything new there.” 

"I told him the same thing," Wind mumbled.

The knot in Legend's stomach twisted further. 

"I don't feel good. I'm going up to my room." 

Legend dashed up the stairs before anyone could call him back. As soon as he was sure he was out of eyeshot, he slumped against the railing and pressed his head to the cool stone wall. His vision flickered and blurred. The knot in his stomach was wound so tight he was worried he would fall apart. Ropes of fire and needles of ice scratched and tore through his veins. 

He wasn't there. 

_ He wasn't there. _

He ascended the stairs with labored breath. With each step, he unwound the bandages on his fingers a little more, letting them flutter behind him like white flags of surrender. 

_ He wasn't there  _ was the only thing he could think as he stumbled into his room.  _ He wasn't there _ was the only thing he could think as he crumpled onto his bed.  _ He wasn't there _ was the only thing he could think of as he yanked the bandages off his fingers. 

_ He wasn't there he wasn't there he wasn't there he wasn't there he wasn't there  _

Legend picked at the bloodied tips of his fingers. Carmine and crimson dripped down his arms, settled in the grooves of his skin, sprinkled on the floor. His breath stuttered with pain and relief as he punished himself. 

_ He wasn't there he wasn't there he wasn't there he wasn't there he wasn't there _

All he could think of were two shining green eyes, open and twinkling like they had been on that night he told them the story of the Firefly Princess. Patient and understanding, loving...

_ Trusting... _

He had been so sure he would be here. 

_ He wasn't there. _

He dug in further. Blood dripped onto the white bedsheets below him, speckled his legs, stained his clothes. Bone peeked through the damaged flesh. Sweat shone on his forehead, and Legend wiped it away with fingers stained red. 

The front door creaked open. 

Legend froze. 

And Warriors stepped inside. 

His hair gleamed gold. He carried his sword in his hand, no sheath or baldric, fingertips pink from the cold. The familiar navy and gold of his scarf was tied around his waist in imitation of a belt, and his lips parted as he exhaled slowly. The pure white of his slacks and shirt shone like righteous marble -- a saint among men, a rose in the mud. 

Legend looked away from the captain’s icy gaze only to lock eyes with his reflection in the adjacent wall mirror. His hands were covered in blood, face smeared red in the places he had itched it earlier, tunic so stained with crimson that it appeared black. 

Warriors took a step closer. 

"C-can I help you?" Legend stammered, trying in vain to hide his blood-stained hands. 

The captain smiled softly and ignored Legend's question. 

"Would you like to go on a walk with me?” 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*-1][*2]

"Is anyone here?" Hyrule called to the forest, seeing no hint of the friend the moblin had talked so highly of. 

There was a rustle in the distance, then the heavy, methodical thump of hooves on wet stone. A shadow detached itself from the forest, massive and hulkling, inching forward at the pace comparable to that of a toddling child. 

A stream of moonlight shot through the clouds, illuminating the figure in front of him. 

And before him stood a massive lynel, bowing in reverence to the Hero of Hyrule. 

"Master Link, my apologies for making you wait so long."

A crystalline moment of silence hung in the air. Hyrule inhaled through his teeth, eyebrows furrowed and heartbeat askew. 

"Who are you?" Hyrule whispered, his question riding on the tail of his exhale. 

"A mere servant. Perhaps even a friend." 

Hyrule's eyes narrowed. Heat and charcoal burned through his veins and dripped at his fingertips. The underside of his nails grew silver with the pulse of the Fire Spell. An indigo breeze wiped the sweat from his forehead and reawakened the mage within him. 

"With all due respect," Hyrule began, his voice low and husky, "this is a very bad time to play the cryptic." 

The lynel chuffed quietly. He made no move to erect himself from his bowed position at Hyrule's feet. 

"I suppose that's true. You have every right to be suspicious of me. However, even though you may not recognize me, you have my word that I am a friend." 

Hyrule mulled over the lynel's words, weighing the intonation and scrutinizing the lilt that colored the monster's vowels. There seemed to be no evidence of malicious intent. 

The magic around his fingertips sputtered and dissipated, and he let his posture grow loose. If the moblin had declared this beast to be a friend, then he was a friend. 

"Very well then,” Hyrule said. “May I please have my ring? The moblin said you were the silversmith who would be able to repair it, if I recall correctly." 

"I will give it to you in just a moment," the lynel concedeed, slowly standing up to face the hero. Moonlight reflected in iridescent streaks off the lynel's horns and gleamed off the monster's silky mane. "Are you ready to go back?" 

Hyrule took a deep breath and swallowed the hot gunk at the back of his throat. 

"Yes." 

Thank the goddesses that he still had the energy to lie. 

"Would you like me to take you?" the lynel offered. 

"Take me?" Hyrule's face colored with embarrassment at the lynel's earnest offer. "Well, that's a very kind offer, but how will you know where to go?"

"You traveled with other warriors, yes? I worked almost my entire life for Ganon. I can smell the heart of a noble swordsman from miles away."

Hyrule rested his chin on the web of skin between his thumb and index finger. He had no idea how the monster knew about his traveling companions, yet there was something about the lynel that was sincere and unthreatening. Perhaps it was because the beast carried no weapons, or because his claws were chipped and teeth were worn down from years of use, or because those small, sorrowful eyes were clouded with cataracts.

The beast was ancient. 

For some reason, Hyrule found the fact comforting. 

"Who are you?" he found himself asking again. 

"Someone who only wishes to help." 

Hyrule nodded absently, pushing away the reservations clustering at the back of his mind. He approached the lynel without thinking, and the great beast bowed before him once again, allowing him to climb on. The Hero of Hyrule did so uneasily. His bones creaked. His muscles burned. His heart stuttered and wailed. With lungs full of mucus and a head delirious from the exertion, Hyrule mounted the lynel. The beast stood up slowly, and Hyrule's bones jostled as he teetered forward into the lynel's mane. 

It was surprisingly soft. 

"Let's be on our way, then. Do you have your bag?" 

Hyrule nodded, then, remembering that the lynel couldn't see him, verbalized his affirmation. The two then set off at a modest trot. Hooves beat against stone and hearts beat against bone. The dome of the sky glistened with midnight, and stars wept with ivory light. Hyrule grunted in discomfort as they moved along. The lynel tensed up each time he did so, stopping to ask if Hyrule was alright. 

He said yes. 

He always said yes. 

Seconds blended into minutes, and minutes slogged into hours. The seat of Hyrule's pants ached from riding bareback, and a wad of saliva felt like it was permanently clogged at the back of his throat. He coughed into the cloth of his bag, then sneezed, then shivered when he caught sight of the scene before him. 

Nabooru Town shone like a crown of diamonds on the horizon. 

"I can't do this." 

"Master Link?" 

Hyrule screwed his eyes shut. His toes prickled with pins-and-needles. Sweat dripped into his eyes and rolled off his face. A wave of nausea overcame him, and he could have sworn his lungs were filled with glass. Shards and sheets of glass. Glass dust, glass mountains, glass glass glass, witnesses that had seen everything, the jury for his trial, the judges of his fate. He exhaled, and a plume of silver slipped from his lower lip, sparkling like a mirror. 

"Master Link?" the lynel repeated, his voice thick with concern. 

"I'm not -- I can't do this. I'm not ready. I didn't -- I haven't -- I can't forget -- I can't forgive my---" 

The hero pressed a hand to his mouth and looked at the moon. 

She didn't look back.

"No worries," the lynel said. "I know a place where we can go until you are ready." 

They once again set off at a gentle trot. Not a sound came from the hero -- no grunts, no curses, no muttered pleas to slow down. There was only the labored breathing of a sick man and the silence of a brokenhearted one. 

Trees sprung up along the side of the road -- scraggly birches and crimson maples, broad-chested oaks and fragrant pines. A thin carpet of grass trembled beneath them. Owls gossiped in the trees above, growing silent when the lynel's hoof beats echoed off lilac rocks and dusty bark. The forest grew thicker. Hyrule and the lynel walked under a ceiling of foliage, hidden from the moon and her legion of stars. 

A nameless heat in Hyrule's chest bundled and twisted as a malformed memory stroked the back of his mind. 

He had been here before, but he couldn't remember when. 

"We're almost there," the lynel whispered, his pace slowing to a crawl as they approached a clearing. Hyrule held his breath -- afraid of what, he didn't know -- and prayed to a distant goddess for strength. 

It was when they had entered into the clearing, when the burnt, dead clumps of grass and twisted corpses of trees greeted them with rattling breaths, when knotted lightning scars smoked across the dust and a bloody rock stared back at him with disdain, when the weight of his transgressions reawakened, did Hyrule remember. 

He slid off the lynel's back. Dead grass crunched beneath his boots as he took in the enormity of the scene before him. 

Everything was dead. 

The fountain water was yellow and stagnant. No fairy dust glittered off leaves. There was no thrum of tiny wings, no twinkle of a familiar lullaby. Sheets of bark peeled off the trees flanking the clearing, their pale bosoms shamefully exposed for the world to see. 

"Is this..."

"The place where we found you? Yes." 

Hyrule's heart grew cold at the lynel's answer. 

_ "Why?" _

The lynel said nothing in response. 

Hyrule dragged himself to the middle of the clearing. His boots scraped against the dirt. His posture was crooked, his vision was cloudy. Pressing the back of his palm to his forehead, Hyrule forced himself to stand tall. 

He had done this.

All of this -- all the death and destruction in this former haven -- he had done this. 

The lightning scars on his back felt as if they were stuffed with ice. 

_ Inhale _ .

_ Exhale _ .

He had broken so many things in his life. Swords, shield, bones. Vases, bottles, trust. Beauty, mirrors, friendships. 

But this was one thing he would not allow to remain shattered. 

_ Inhale _ .

_ Exhale _ . 

He had always found the name 'Hero of Hyrule' to be too much. 

Perhaps he was just ‘Hero of the Little Things.’ 

‘Hero of the Broken Things.’

_ Inhale. _

_ Exhale _ .

Hyrule let his consciousness melt away and fall into the dust. The faint heartbeat of the earth rose up to meet his -- pleading, begging, weeping for deliverance, a second chance. 

_ Inhale _ .

_ Exhale _ .

And the hero took the dying world into his arms. 

Emerald and platinum exploded into the air. Streaks of light coalesced like ropes of silk around Hyrule's fingertips, a neon tapestry of green and white, the glowing memories of broken things and broken people. The heartbeat of the earth grew stronger, fuller. The grass beneath him turned from black to green. Lightning wounds were healed. Fresh coats of bark glistened on the trees. Tiny daisies popped their head through the dirt, and the shards of a broken haven were pieced back together. 

  
  


Hyrule's gut twisted. Pain flared up his legs. The hero doubled over, hands wrapped his stomach, his pupils nothing more than pinpricks against bloodshot eyes. 

His reserves were empty. 

The spell flickered. 

The world's heartbeat stuttered, shuddering in the grasp of unsure hands. 

His dark eyes fell on the empty fairy fountain. 

His guilt giggled at his failing body. 

And the Life Spell erupted around him. 

It billowed through his veins, a cascade of emerald, a mountain of silver, a kingdom of gold. The grass around him turned a brilliant green. Thousands of wildflowers shimmered, brought to life by bleeding, pierced hands, swaying on a fresh wind torn from the hero's own lungs. The waters of the fairy fountain cleared, rippling with platinum and the promise of life. 

Hyrule shuddered. His consciousness returned to him in droplets, and his body crumpled beneath him. 

The lynel caught him. 

"Master Link...that was incredible." 

Hyrule peered up at the beast through half-lidded eyes. A lopsided smile trickled off his face, and he shook his head slowly. 

"It's only a simple life spell." 

"Incredible nonetheless," the lynel said, laying the hero down on the carpet of flowers. Hyrule winced at the compliment, wheezing as he sat up and smiling when the lynel took a seat next to him. His smile turned bashful when the lynel pulled out a blanket from his bag and wrapped him in it, then offered him a sugarcube. The hero accepted, taking twice the proposed amount, and grinned as the familiar taste filled his mouth. 

"I love sugar," Hyrule blurted out. The lynel chuckled. 

"Most powerful mages do. That only supports my conclusion that you are one of the greatest who ever lived." 

Hyrule nearly choked. 

"Wh -- what? I'm just a kid, not some incredible mage or something." 

"Clearly your lying skills are not on par with your spellcasting ones." 

Hyrule blushed and buried himself in his blankets. 

"Master Link, I've heard many legends about your magical prowess. How did you learn such things?" 

Hyrule’s eyes widened. Never before had someone asked him such a question, and finally being able to discuss a subject so close to his heart felt like a sin. 

"Uh, well, I learned the seven fundamental spells during my second quest -- shield, jump, life, fairy, reflect, spell -- the basic stuff. When the princess and the queen asked me to continue helping with the kingdom's reconstruction, I--- wait, I'm sorry, this must be really boring." 

The lynel startled from Hyrule’s comment, then furrowed his eyebrows. "No, no, please go ahead, this is all very interesting to me.” 

"If you're sure..." 

The lynel nodded. Hyrule took another sugar cube, wiped away some crystals from his cheek, and continued. "Well, anyway, Queen and Princess Zelda asked me to stay in Hyrule and continue helping with the kingdom's reconstruction. Every first day of the week there would be this big conference in the Royal Library to discuss plans for the following days and things like that. Really boring stuff -- most of it was just the queen trying to find a way to ship mortar and lumber from Calatia. Apparently there aren't any safe harbors in West Hyrule. Anyway, the meetings were always in the royal library, and I usually stayed afterwards to help clean up. Usually I would leave after that and spend the rest of the day...well...recuperating." 

The lynel snickered. Hyrule blushed. 

"I'm telling you, those meetings were so boring! I don't know how the queen and princess can go to them all the time." 

"They're strong women." 

"Stronger than me," Hyrule agreed. "They're amazing. Oh, sorry, I'm getting off track." 

"No, don't worry."

Hyrule smiled and continued. "Anyway, there was one time where I decided to stay in the library after clean-up and just, you know, wander around. Best decision I ever made. I found this big book on magical artifacts and spells. Couldn't put it down. There was so much information in it, so many things I didn't know -- it almost felt like reading it was cheating. Princess Zelda told me to keep the book, and I ended studying it almost every night. It was basically the only thing I did for months, aside from all the reconstruction stuff. And let me tell you, the day I tried to incorporate the things I had learned into my spellcasting...that was the day everything changed. Negative spells, have you heard of them?" 

The lynel's jaw dropped. 

_ "You invented negative spells?"  _

Hyrule nodded, his grin growing wider as his heart beat faster. 

"I can't believe this," the lynel muttered. "You really are the greatest mage who ever lived." 

Hyrule's face turned crimson. He tried to stutter out a deflection, but the lynel cut him off and told him to continue on with his story. With a heart aflame with pride, Hyrule recommenced. 

"Anyway...so I invented -- ah, that’s a pretty important sounding word -- I discovered negative spells and ended up studying them. Wrote a book on it, even. Most of them are pretty surefire to work -- especially the Ice Spell, basically all you need to do is reverse the incantation of the Fire Spell. But some of them are more hit-or-miss -- the fusion spell especially." 

The lynel shook his head in amazement. "Master Link, I always knew you were powerful...but hearing that you're the inventor of more than a dozen spells...you're going to have to forgive me if I ask for your signature later." 

"Oh my goodness, you're way too nice to me." 

"No such thing. Now tell me, what did you do after that?" 

"Well, not much. That's pretty much the story. I just found a book on artifacts and magic, read it a lot, and then could cast some new spells. Sorry if that was a lot of information, I hope it didn't bore you too much."

'Not in the slightest. It very much did the opposite, actually." 

A comfortable moment of silence passed between them. Moonlight filtered from the canopy overhead, leaving stained-glass speckles of light on the clearing floor. The fairy fountain twinkled with music, flowers swayed in the wind, and the lullaby of life sunk into Hyrule's bones. 

And for the first time in months, he was glad to be alive. 

"So, what's your story?" Hyrule asked, turning to face the lynel. 

"It's not nearly as fascinating as yours." 

"I would like to hear it anyway, if that's okay with you." 

It was the lynel's turn to be bashful. The beast's horns shone indigo and cerulean under the moonlight, and his eyes grew distant. "Very well. I believe I mentioned once before that I worked for Ganon. I had been his servant for the better half of a millennia when you -- a simple child with a simple sword -- killed him. I was...stunned. I wondered if you would take Ganon's place as the Prince of Darkness, so I watched you from afar, waiting to see if you would display the same ruthlessness as my former master. I think you already know how that story turned out." 

A sigh of midnight glided through the clearing, cooling the flush on Hyrule's cheeks.

"Anyway," the lynel continued, his voice soft and gentle, "I quickly learned how honorable of a young man you were. The way you treated Princess Zelda with endless respect, always attentive to her needs and her worries...the kindness you showed Impa, the love you showed to the citizens of a country you weren't even born in...it displayed a strength I had never seen in Ganon. That doesn't even begin to touch on your incredible magical prowess and combat expertise. When the princess set you out on your second adventure, the armies of Ganon were terrified." 

"Terrified?" Hyrule asked incredulously. "I don't mean to be rude, but I hardly slept on that journey. It's difficult to do so when you know that you're being hunted." 

The lynel was quiet, meditating over Hyrule's words and picking out his own as carefully as possible. "I see. I hadn't thought about how the situation would have been for you, but I can tell you with confidence that even if you felt like the hunted, you were very much the hunter. At least in the eyes of my former colleagues. Only the strongest were sent out to fight you, the best of the best, and yet you cut them down like they were nothing more than chaff in the wind." 

"...not always." 

"Perhaps. But often enough for the sound of your name to strike fear in the heart of any wandering monster. Only those most desperate for Ganon's posthumous approval still try and hunt you down -- at least, that's what I've heard. As I hope you've assumed by now, I no longer work for Ganon. I haven't since the day you began your second adventure. I had no interest in fighting an enemy I knew I would lose to. Actually, I was much more interested in helping." 

Hyrule's eyebrows drew together in confusion. 

"You told me when we first met that you didn't know who I am, but perhaps you've seen my handiwork before." 

The lynel extended his hand, and a Link doll materialized in his palm. 

Every sound in Hyrule's mind ceased to exist. 

The doll. 

His mind grew deafening with memories of freezing nights huddled alone in caves, of sunless mornings dripping with his blood, of blistering afternoons watching his drowning breaths bubble into the water above him. Memories of days where he should have died, nights where he should have perished, sunrises he should have never seen and limbs that shouldn't still be attached...

The dolls had saved him. 

The strange, slightly misshapen renditions of himself had pushed him backwards from death innumerable times. They had given him strength when he had none of his own left, a reason to live when his soul was dry, a whisper of comfort when he wanted to scream out surrender. 

"You've saved my life," Hyrule whispered. "You've saved my life. So many times." 

"And you've saved mine." 

"...huh?" 

"For five hundred years, I lived a life of depravity and violence. I wasted my energy and my youth working for a monster -- a true monster -- who embodied the things I have grown to hate most. It was you who showed me, in your humble, loving way, what it meant to live right. Thank you, Hero of Hyrule." 

Hyrule said nothing, leaned forward, and placed his hand in the lynel's.

There was no loud, tearful exchange of thanks. There was no tsunami of emotion, convulsions of gratitude, great, grand gestures of appreciation. No speeches were declared, no secrets exposed, no promises were made. The moon didn't shine brighter, and the grass didn't glow greener. 

And yet, on that night, an unbreakable friendship was born. 

A friendship born of the little things, of the broken things, of the things that mattered most. 

"How did you do it?" Hyrule asked at last, pointing to the doll in the lynel's hand. 

"I made and enchanted these dolls when you set out on your second quest. I knew the threats you would be up against, and I knew you may not be able to get through all of them on your own. So I scattered these dolls across the kingdom, leaving them in places where I thought you would benefit from them most. I couldn't help directly, but I wanted to find a way to thank the man who had shown me a better way of living. I have aged since then. It has only been a few years, but the weight of my past has finally caught up to me, and my magic is no longer what it used to be. But I hope that this doll can still be of use to you." 

The lynel handed the doll to Hyrule. 

And the fatigue that had nearly crippled Hyrule's every breath vanished. His hair curled and glossed, his eyes brightened, his skin softened and filled. Muscles strung along his back and popped out with almost promiscuous definition. The smell of spearmint and redemption filtered into the air, and all vestiges of his sickness faded away. 

Hyrule was at a loss for words. This...this wasn't how the dolls usually worked. 

Only when the lynel chuckled did Hyrule realize he'd verbalized his confusion. 

"Indeed, Master Link, that isn't how the dolls usually work. This one has something special. Go ahead and place your finger on the doll's chest." 

Hyrule did as instructed, resting his thumb over the doll's chest. His eyes narrowed when his finger bumped against something hard. 

"What's this?" Hyrule asked, pressing his finger against the dense clump and comparing it to the cotton-stuffed arms of the doll. "Is there something in there?" 

"Yes. The white ring."

Hyrule's breath caught in his throat. The lynel continued. 

"I know that the ring doesn't belong to you. I also know that you have every intention of returning it to its owner. Yet, despite my best efforts to seal the ring's magic, it is still incredibly unstable. I wanted to find a way to safely store it while ensuring it would not be able to hurt you or anyone else again, thus, I placed it inside the doll. All you need to do now is return the doll itself to the ring's owner. She's a very adpt spellcaster herself -- she'll know what's inside and, goddesses willing, leave the artifact where it is now." 

"I think I understand," Hyrule said.

"However, my magic isn't what it used to be. The healing power you just felt flow through you is only temporary. Here, let me show you." 

The lynel took the doll away from Hyrule.

And the vitality in the hero's lungs left with a hiss. 

Sickness slithered up his back. His eyelids grew heavy, his head lolled at the top of his spine, and his heart beat sluggishly within him. The lynel hurriedly returned the doll, sighing with relief when the hero’s illness evaporated and he was restored to his formed state. 

"What on earth was that?" Hyrule demanded, his voice trembling with shock. 

"The doll dilutes the ring's power, making it only a temporary effect. It's almost like a mask -- if that makes sense. However, if you were to pull out the ring and put it on, then the healing effects would be permanent. But you must promise me you will never do that. The ring is far too unstable, and it may kill you if you're exposed to it a second time. Does that make sense?” 

Hyrule nodded. His grip on the doll tightened. 

"I guess I can go back to the others, now. And they won't have to worry about me being sick, either." 

A pit broiled at the bottom of Hyrule’s stomach. Blackened memories clawed against the walls of his consciousness, screaming, wailing, gnashing their teeth and painting the world indigo and red. 

He would get to go back. 

He would have to go back. 

Would he be stronger, this time? How many more times would he make the same mistake? How many more times would he be a bystander? How much longer would he be too weak, too afraid to stand up to his hero, his Legend, and-- 

“Hero, what’s wrong?” 

Hyrule said nothing. An empty wind blew through the clearing, only bringing with it the taste of heat and death. 

“Master Link, are you alright?”

Hyrule plastered a wide, cheap smile on his face. He turned to look at the lynel, manufactured confidence bristling in his voice. “I’ll get over it. I’m fine. I promise.” 

“Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.” 

“...” 

“Master Link--” 

“...I can’t...I can’t forgive...I’m trying so hard, I’m trying so hard that it hurts, but I can’t...I can’t forgive my--” 

Ancient bones creaked as the lynel stood up and placed a hand on Hyrule’s shoulder. “You know, I never told you why I brought you here. Come with me.” The lynel trotted over to the bank of the fairy fountain and took a seat, gesturing for Hyrule to follow. 

Walking on limbs trembling with foreign strength and a heart frozen with familiar dread, the hero obeyed, sitting at the fountain’s edge. He tried not to choke on the phantom smell of blood and broken rings and tiny, burnt fairy wings. 

The empty fairy fountain twinkled before him. 

Hyrule couldn’t bring himself to look at it. 

“Now listen carefully,” the lynel said, cloudy grey eyes sparkling with childish delight. “They won’t come out unless you’re quiet.” 

“They? But there aren’t any fairies here. I...I kil--” 

He was cut off by the familiar sound of twinkling wings. 

A single, lone fairy fluttered into the clearing. An emerald glow wrapped itself around her tiny form, shivering with curiosity and warmth. 

Hyrule nearly kneeled over with relief. 

Yet something was strange about the fairy. Her wingbeats were uneven, unsure, limping and ungraceful. Tiny huffs and puffs echoed in the air as the fairy flew to Hyrule’s side. 

And that’s when he saw it. 

A twisted, blackened scar on her left wing. The appendage hung uselessly at her side, flickering with intention, but nothing more. 

Memories roared and howled within him. Memories of uncontrollable lightning, of cracked rings, of fairy wings torn and burnt by rouge fire and maniac flames--

Hyrule looked away and closed his eyes. 

“Master Link…” 

“Is he mad at me?” the fairy asked. Tiny feet landed on Hyrule’s forearm and pattered up to his elbow. “Are you mad at me? I’m so sorry if I did something wrong. I just wanted to tell you hello. Are you okay?” 

“...” 

“Mr. Hero?” 

The footsteps flickered up his arms, so soft they were almost imperceivable. 

“Mr. Hero?” the fairy asked again, her small voice now coming from his shoulder. She flew up to his face and tucked away a stray curl. “Hey...are you okay?” 

The fairy waved her hand in front of his face and took a seat on the bridge of his nose.

Hyrule opened his eyes slowly, then startled when he saw just how close the fairy was. 

“Oh, Mr. Hero!” the fairy squealed, hopping off his nose and flickering through the air. Her burnt wing flapped desperately, and Hyrule caught the tiny fae before she could fall to the ground. 

Beside him, the lynel smiled. 

In front of him, the fairy beamed. 

And within him, his guilt screeched. 

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Hyrule whispered. 

The fairy looked up at him incredulously. “Why would I be angry with you? I love you!” 

“...I burned your wing.” 

“So? It was an accident. I know that” 

Hyrule turned away and shut his eyes. The taste of metal filled his mouth as he bit down on his lip. 

“How can you forgive me? How can you forgive me so easily, after what I did?” Hyrule croaked. 

“Oh, Mr. Hero, I wasn’t mad at you in the first place.” 

“...”

“I was never mad at you.” 

“...” 

The fairy rested her cheek against his neck, tiny, burnt wings fluttering in the breeze. 

“I love you,” the fairy whispered. “We all love you.” 

Hyrule blinked away the water in his eyes and gasped when he took in the scene before him. 

Dozens upon dozens of fairies fluttered above him, swirling and swaying on the gentle arms of dawn’s breeze. They all trembled with the same uneasy gait as the fairy by his side, lifted up by broken, burnt wings. 

Yet only love, only compassion, only beautiful, incomprehensible forgiveness shone in their eyes. 

Hyrule looked at the lynel. The ancient beast nodded and smiled, as if giving him permission to redeem himself. 

_ Inhale.  _

_ Exhale.  _

A dim glow of emerald sparkled off the tips of his fingers. The heartbeat of innumerable, tiny beings coalesced in his grasp, and the Life Spell flowered in his palm. 

“Do you feel that?” a fairy chimed.

“My wings!!” 

“Both of them are working again -- what happened?” 

Hyrule couldn’t help but smile. 

“Mr. Hero, was that you?” a fairy questioned.

“I feel so strong -- thank you!” 

“You’re amazing!”

“I love you!” 

“I think that’s true for all of us,” the lynel said, pulling a blanket from his bag and wrapping it around the shivering hero. Countless tiny voices chimed in agreement, and Hyrule beamed. 

Maybe…

Just maybe…

He could also learn to forgive.

  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*-2][*3] 

The veteran and the captain walked through the streets of Nabooru Town, the latter lagging slightly behind. Legend tried to enjoy the cool breeze and the expectant quiet that came with dusk, knowing that the walk wouldn't last as long as he probably hoped it would. Twilight and Wild had already started cooking dinner before they left -- there was no doubt that the two would come looking for them if they hadn’t returned during the next half hour. 

Legend sighed. His face burned from the vigorous washing earlier -- Warriors had recommended he wash off the bloodstains on his face and hands before they got going -- and a chill skittered under his skin. Wearing nothing but his green tunic, shorts, and boots left him feeling strangely exposed. There was no need for his cap or red overtunic, but it still felt odd to be walking about without them. He glanced at the fresh bandages on his fingers and let his mind wander. It was a bit odd how the captain had urged him not to bring any weapons on their walk. Of course, there wasn't really a threat of being attacked in the middle of town, but if Legend had felt strange without his full wardrobe, he felt completely naked without a sword. 

At least he brought the mirror. 

He sucked in cool air through his teeth. 

Part of him wanted to unwrap the bandages again. 

_ Would he ever get over this? _

His eyes drifted over to Warriors, whose focus was fixated ahead. Perhaps the other was just as lost in thought as he was. That was understandable. Everyone had a lot on their mind these days. 

The two slowly walked through the village to the grassy hillside just outside the town gates. Warriors lead him to a tiny valley between two hills, bisected by a meandering brook and shadowed by a gnarled willow tree. 

“This is the place I wanted to show you,” Warriors said, spreading his arms in imitation of a salesman. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” 

Legend couldn’t help but agree. Squirrels chittered and fled up the tree as the two advanced. Birds sung, bees droned, flowers swayed, and tiny, dead willow leaves were swept away by the brook. The world was drenched in sunset gold. Shafts of orange and yellow filtered through the willow tree, dappling light on the grass and the water's surface. Warriors took a seat on a rock by the stream, gesturing for Legend to do the same. The veteran sat down, marveling at the warmth of the rock beneath him and the coolness of the air around him. 

It was a beautiful day to be alive. 

"How was the search?" Warriors asked, offering the veteran a small smile. 

Oh, so this was why he had been called. Legend swallowed the anxious gunk at the back of his throat. He shouldn't have been surprised. Out of all the others, he had been the most confident that...he....would be here. 

_ He wasn't here.  _

Legend closed his eyes and looked away. 

Warriors repeated his question. 

"Fruitless," Legend replied at last. 

Warriors nodded and looked away. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and extended it to Legend. 

"Care for a cigar?" he asked. "Faron Wood-grown. Only the best of the best." 

Legend nodded shyly, picking the slimmest one and marveling at how it was still thicker than both his pointer fingers put together. Warriors lit it with a match and put away the box of cigars. 

He forgot to take one for himself. 

Odd. 

Purple haze clouded into the air, curling from the cigar's end. Innumerable fireflies flickered through the air and left droplets of light to dance off the surface of the waters. A nocturne conducted by the animals of the night swelled around them, and, for a brief moment, all was well. 

"There were a lot of horrible things I did during my adventure," Warriors whispered. 

"Hm?" 

"The worst was the executions. There were many. Too many." 

"Executions? Why?" 

"Traitors." 

Legend coughed on the smoke and turned to look at Warriors. Firefly light reflected in his captain's cerulean irises. 

“I was always the one who had to do it. The executions, I mean. It is hard to kill. It is even harder to kill someone you once thought of as a friend." 

Silence. 

Warriors continued. 

"To make it easier, I put together a ritual. I would always take the condemned to the most beautiful place I could find, and then offer them a cigar. We would then chat. Usually about small, domestic things. To make them feel comfortable. To remind them about the beautiful things a better part of them had once cherished.” 

Legend's blood ran cold. The cigar fell from his fingertips. 

“Most of the traitors were men without honor. If that was the case, I would kill them while they were still speaking. If I respected them -- or once had -- I would tell them what I knew. What I had learned. I would give them the dignity of knowing they would die." 

Warriors turned to him. Dying sunlight glittered off his porcelain skin. The tips of his eyelids glittered gold in the dull light, his cheeks flushed pink, his sword sparkled in the din. The brilliant white of his clothes contrast painfully with the cool greens of the hillside, and a righteousness of ages past glowed faintly in his eyes. Warriors tilted his head to the side and looked at Legend through half-parted eyelids.

"I respect you, Hero of Legend." 

Legend begged himself to speak, but there was no air in his lungs of which to speak with. The mirror at his side burned. Blood thundered to his fingertips, roiled under the cut on his chin, screeched through his jugular and through his capillaries. Had Warriors figured out? 

Oh Hylia. Had he figured it out? 

Did Warriors know about the mirror? 

His heart pounded against his ribcage. His limbs lost feeling. 

_ Hylia, forgive me. _

"I know. I know  _ everything _ ." 

Warriors stood up. Legend scrambled backwards. He slipped off the rock he was sitting on, and landed painfully on his back. Warriors followed him, hopping off the rock and fluttering to the ground with catlike grace. His heel came to a rest against Legend's temple, and the tip of his sword rested against a vein on Legend's neck. 

The captain pressed the tip of his sword down. Legend’s skin turned white. 

"You are very quiet," Warriors observed. 

"..." 

The captain tilted his head and squinted his eyes. He applied a breath more force to his heel, pressing Legend's face deeper in the mud. 

"I'm sorry, Legend." 

"...do it." 

"..."

"Do it.  _ Please _ . I deserve it." 

The captain's lips curled in disgust. "You don't even have the courage to look your own transgressions in the eye? No. I will tell you what I have learned. I will tell you what you have done. You will die bearing the guilt of what you have done." 

Fireflies flickered in the air. Warriors’ voice grew husky with anger. 

"You killed the Hero of Hyrule." 

_ Wait _ .

"What?" Legend cried, a droplet of sweat rolling into his eye. He blinked it away and shuddered when he saw the disdain dripping from Warriors’ face. 

"First you pretend to be sorry and now you pretend to be ignorant? Face the things you have done, or I will kill you before you have the chance to repent.” 

Legend breathed heavily, but said nothing.

"You killed the Hero of Hyrule on this day one month ago, on our last night in Darunia Town. I do not know when you did it, but I know that the hero fought back. That’s where you got the scar on your cheek from.” 

Oh goddesses. 

Oh goddesses.

_ Oh goddesses, Warriors had gotten it completely wrong. _

“Twilight must have caught you in the act. You found a way to bribe him into not talking -- I walked in on you trying to console him, don’t try and deny it. The only reason you stick so close to his side is to ensure that he doesn’t tell. And that story you told me, the one you said was Hyrule’s favorite, the ‘Legend of the Firefly Princess?’ That day Wild fainted, I talked to some other guards about the story. None of them seemed to recognize it. You made it up.” 

The veteran's tears dripped into the mud. He was finally condemned, finally punished, finally called to carry his cross...but all for something he had never done. He wanted to say the truth. He wanted to confess. He wanted to tear the mirror from his waist and smash it on the floor, wanted to beg the goddess to turn back time, wanted to go back to that day weeks and weeks ago where Hyrule tucked a strand of pink hair by his ear, wanted to hold that hand in his instead of slapping it away. 

Warriors pressed the veteran’s face further into the mud.

“You were so sure the hero would be here. You told everyone -- me, the old man, the guardsmen, even the  _ sailor _ , that he would be here. Maybe you thought you would be able to kill us all before we arrived, but you’re either dangerously lazy, dangerously foolish, or both, because your plan is falling apart. Listen, ‘Hero of Legend,’ you’re a possessed man. I can see it in your eyes. You’re hiding something. You’re not the man I used to know -- you’re a stranger to me.” 

The pain in Legend's eyes was reflected in Warriors' own. 

Legend’s soul fragmented within him. The sound of his own desperate pleas for life faded to the back of his mind. 

His heart ached, but not for himself. 

Oh, Warriors. 

_ I'm so sorry. _

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you’ve done to the Hero of Legend, but I’m willing to have your blood on my hands to ensure you don’t have any more on yours." 

Silence.

"Is there anything else you wish to say?" 

_ Inhale _ .

_ Exhale.  _

Legend briefly considered explaining himself. 

He decided not to. 

"I'm so sorry, Warriors. I'm so so sorry." 

Owls cooed sorrowfully overhead. 

"...so am I." 

The sword pressed against his neck. 

Fireflies drifted through the air like golden dust. 

Footsteps echoed in the hills, and Legend let his eyes close. 

It was a beautiful day to die. 

… 

… 

… 

But the blow never came. 

The weight on his head fell away, and Legend dared to open his eyes. Warriors stood frozen before him, encased in a sheet of ice. 

What’s going on here?" Wild cried, stumbling into the clearing and swinging his great frostblade. "What -- why? What happened? Warriors, what happened to you? What were you doing? Legend? Guys? Warriors, what’s wrong with you?” 

Twilight followed behind him and placed a hand on the champion’s shoulder. Both heroes shook like leaves in the wind.

“You two were supposed to be back for dinner half an hour ago," Twilight began. "What was going on here?” 

Legend couldn't bring himself to speak. 

Warriors couldn't bring himself to speak either, albeit in a much more literal sense. 

Before the ice could completely melt around Warriors' form, Wild snatched away the champion's sword and Twilight pinned his arms to his back. The captain cursed and writhed as the ice dripped away. Twilight's hold only grew tighter. 

"Explain," Twilight commanded. 

Warriors breathed heavily, his skin stained pink from the cold. Blue eyes were hidden behind long, glossy bangs, and water dripped off his chin. 

For a brief second, Legend wondered if the captain was crying. 

He instantly pushed the thought away.

The man was too strong to cry. 

"I know why we can't find the Hero of Hyrule," Warriors said at last. He pointed a finger at Legend. "He killed him." 

" _ What _ .” 

The rancher’s word echoed in the clearing. 

Wild pressed a hand to his mouth. He looked like he was going to vomit. 

"That is absolutely and completely preposterous," Twilight growled. 

Warriors sighed. "You don’t need to cover for him anymore. I know the truth.” 

"What  _ truth _ ?" 

"He bribed you so you would stay quiet. I know." 

"He  _ what _ me?" 

Twilight's grip on Warriors' back grew tighter. The captain let out a grunt of pain, but his voice carried like silk on the wind.

“The day he went missing, when I found you crying in the healing house -- it was because you caught Legend committing the murder, and he bribed you to stay quiet. Isn't that right?” 

Twilight's jaw dropped. His free hand clenched into a fist but, at Wild's whispered behest, slowly unfurled. 

For the first time that day, a flicker of confusion brushed against Warriors' face. 

“No. No no no. You’re wrong. You’re completely wrong.” Twilight inhaled slowly and glanced at Legend. The veteran, still splayed across the floor, trembled with such violence that it looked like he might shatter. Twilight turned back to face Warriors. “He told me he had a dream that night -- that last night in Darunia Town -- and that he knew about the pain I’d suffered on my journey.” Legend winced at the sound of Twilight's voice and rested his head back in the mud. “He said he knew about the...friend I had lost. He was consoling me because I was in pain, not because he was trying to  _ bribe _ me.” 

Moonlight rippled over the brook's waters. 

Warriors tried to brush away the bangs in front of his eyes with his breath. "What about that story about the Firefly Princess? He made it up. When I asked the guardsmen about it, they didn’t know what it was.” 

"He didn’t ‘ _ make it up _ .’ I was there, Warriors. I heard Hyrule tell the story. Legend heard Hyrule tell the story. Wind heard Hyrule tell the story. And I was also there on that night with the guardsmen. They didn’t ‘ _ not know what the story was _ .’ One of them said it was a strange story to have as a favorite, and the rest were quiet, but that didn’t mean the story was made up.”

The captain's perfect posture melted. He sputtered and wheezed, glancing at the veteran, the champion, and the rancher. 

"What about the scar on his cheek, then?" 

Legend forced the taste of mud out of his mouth and sat up. "I cut myself on some glass," he explained, running a dirty finger over the scar on his face. 

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. 

But he still felt dirty. 

“Then why was he so sure Hyrule would be here?” Warriors accused. 

"Look at him!" Wild wailed. "Maybe you’re too afraid to hope anymore, but he isn’t. Or wasn’t. I...I can’t believe you...I can’t believe you tried to kill him! What’s wrong with you? Why would you ever do this? How could you ever...why? Why, Warriors?" 

Twilight glanced at Wild. Wild rested his head against the rancher and said nothing more, his eyes growing vacant and heartbroken. 

"Is this true?" Warriors asked at last. 

Legend swallowed and turned away.

“Yes.” 

The captain's eyes glistened.

"Is Hyrule alive?" 

"I hope so. Oh goddesses I hope so I hope so  _ I hope so. _ ” 

Warriors flinched at the brokenness in Legend's voice. 

"Then why, Legend, did you ask me to kill you?" 

The Hero of Legend said nothing. His muscles continued to shake, his breathing continued to shamble, his heart continued to pound. He glanced up at Warriors with wet eyes. The captain's face twisted in sympathy.

No more questions were asked. 

"Come on, Legend," Wild said, crouching next to the veteran and supporting his head under his arms. "Let's go back to the inn now. We have some nice food for you. Very nice and warm. I can even make you carrot cake afterwards, if you want. Let's go now, c'mon." 

Legend didn't move. 

Warriors looked away. 

Twilight released his hold on the captain, but not a breath of movement swept through the clearing. Wild muttered something into his Sheikah Slate, and, if Legend strained his ears, he could hear fragments of Wind's voice chittering in response. 

Hardly five minute passed before Sky, Four, and Wind turned up by the brookside. Sky carried a pot of soup, Four bundled innumerable bedrolls and blankets under his arms, and Wind carried eating utensils and a small bag of salt water taffy. 

A somber campfire was set up. Each hero took their bedroll and ladled soup in their bowl as quietly as possible. No one looked each other in the eye. 

"Where's the old man?" Twilight asked, breaking the silence with his forlorn question. 

"He's still looking," Wind replied. 

Silence. 

Wind offered Twilight a piece of salt water taffy, then extended the candy bag to the rest of the group. There was not a single person in the clearing who liked taffy -- aside from Wind -- but they all took it graciously and stuffed it down with minimal complaint. 

Dusk melted into night. The air grew cold. Sky and Four fell asleep on top of their bedrolls. Wind and Wild tried to stay awake by counting blades of grass, but they only lasted for three minutes before their counting melted into snores. Only Warriors, Twilight, and Legend were still awake. The veteran stared at his untouched soup, watching the oil and fat swirl at the top. Warriors fiddled with his scarf. Twilight leaned against a tree, eyes half-closed. 

Warriors scooted a little closer to the veteran. Legend tensed. Twilight narrowed his eyes. The captain coughed, wincing when he caught Legend's attention. 

"Uh,..I...I don’t even know how to begin explaining how sorry I am," Warriors murmured. 

Legend smiled. "No, it’s okay, I--”

“It’s not okay. I literally tried to kill you. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“...” 

“Legend, what’s wrong? Wait, you don’t have to tell me. I know that I’m probably the last person you want to talk to about these things. This thing. Whatever. Whatever is bothering you, I mean. But…” Warriors hung his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” 

Legend flinched. He stared back at the constellation grease and oil of his soup. 

Oil. 

Grease. 

They were such ugly things, but somehow they looked beautiful in the firelight. 

"Warriors,” Legend whispered, “I’m not mad at you. If I was in your place, I would have done the same thing.” 

"You don’t need to forgive me. You shouldn’t forgive me. Hylia..I’m doing it all over again. I was so sure I was right. I didn’t even bother to think that...that I might be mistaken...I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” 

_ I'm doing it all over again. _

Legend's heart tremored. 

How many times had his soul cried out with the same phrase? 

"Listen," Legend began, his eyes still trained on his soup. "I’m not really good at these emotional things, but it hurts me to see you like this. I know what it's like to jump to conclusions. I know what it's like to make decisions that...that you're not proud of. I know what it's like to fall into a cycle of making the same mistake over and over. Believe me. I know. And I’m not mad at you. I never was. It’s okay. I'm okay. You're okay. Everyone's okay. Thank the goddesses for Twilight and Wild, yeah?” 

"...yeah..." 

The two glanced up at Twilight, who had fallen asleep with a scowl on his face. Legend turned his attention back to the fire, and Warriors' gaze trailed behind his. The captain opened his mouth, clamped it shut, and stood up. 

"Where are you going?" Legend asked. 

"To sleep." Warriors pointed to his bedroll, which lay at the farthest end of camp.

"Hmm. We paid for all those nice rooms at the inn to not even sleep in them, huh?” 

Warriors laughed half-heartedly as he picked his way through the sleeping Links. 

"You don't have to be that far away," Legend called after him. 

"..." 

"You can sleep next to me if you want." 

Warriors clenched his fist as he stood over his bedroll. 

"Why are you forgiving me so easily?” 

It was Legend's turn to open his mouth and immediately close it. Warriors glared at him from the gaps in his bangs, then deflated. 

Legend tried not to cry out with relief when Warriors dragged his bedroll next to his. 

All the things that had been broken...

Perhaps they could be salvaged. 

The firelight crackled a charcoal lullaby as Warriors drifted off to sleep by his side. 

Oil and grease swirled and danced atop Legend's cold soup. 

He was the only one still awake. 

The mirror burned at his side. 

Legend picked it up with reluctant, bandaged fingers. 

Twilight said that Legend had been able to help him. And Four...Four still had those flowers the veteran had given him all those weeks ago. His eyes flickered back to the slumbering captain. Warriors' back was turned to him with almost intentional carelessness. A prickle of adrenaline burned through Legend's veins. 

_ I'm doing it all over again.  _

In every heartbeat of that day, Legend had seen his own demons reflected in the captain's eyes. He had none of Warriors' nobility, none of the captain's shimmering charisma and elegant grace, yet a string of sorrowful brotherhood tied their souls together. 

Legend couldn't help himself. 

He had long since given up on that. 

But perhaps he could help Warriors. 

The mirror throbbed against his palm as he panned it over Warriors' sleeping form. A sweltering, steaming darkness dripped from the handle and trickled down Legend's arms.The glass turned black, and a familiar question was spoken. 

_ "Do you wish to see this Hero through his own eyes?” _

Legend stifled a guilty grin and nodded. 

[*-3] [*4]

The mirror hissed. Navy and gold smoke curled from the mirror's glass, elongating and turning to thread as it brushed through the air. The threads twisted and turned into each other, knitting together in an ethereal fabric, snapping in the wind like a ribbon of silk, reaching down..

Down...

Down...

And constricting around Legend's neck. 

The hero stammered and choked. His consciousness unraveled within him as he was pulled into the mirror, turning to silver threads as he slipped through the fingers of reality. His consciousness fluttered like gold leaf behind him, slowly knitting itself back together, glowing and gleaming as it formed a silver cord. 

It reached up...

Up...

Up... 

And wrapped itself around his waist right before he hit the ground. 

Legend swung on the weight of his consciousness, now-bare feet hovering just above a floor he couldn't see. The world was black and silent. Slowly, his feet pressed against the freezing ground, and his awareness came back to him. Color leaked from his body into the ground. Iridescent membranes of colors he couldn't name spilled and spiraled around him, heating the ground beneath him and illuminating the world around him. 

Everything was awash with gloomy greys and blues. 

Legend bit his tongue and winced when the taste of metal flushed against his taste buds. 

This was odd. 

The veteran walked on, searching for anything of meaning in the monochrome landscape ahead. The floor beneath him remained black and imperceptible -- vaguely slippery, undeniably soft. Each of his heartbeats pumped a fresh sheet of light into the world, and a shape began to form on the horizon. Legend squinted and, realizing there was nothing holding him back, sprinted ahead. 

The world trembled with his curiosity and confusion. 

The shape on the horizon sharpened. 

Legend froze in awe. 

Hyrule Castle. 

  
  


It sparkled in the distance, washed in white, framed in gold. A flag fluttered overhead, and Legend found himself suddenly aware of the armies of men marching toward it. He joined them, chin high, elbows at the side, endlessly curious to where they were headed. 

How he could be curious when he already knew whose ghost resided in the castle, he didn't know. 

His pace lagged as the legions of men rushed ahead. A soldier jostled against his side and knocked him over. Legend grunted as he fell and swore as he got up.

Something wet trickled down his knee. 

How? He hadn't even fallen that hard. 

Legend brushed his fingers against the injury and squinted when they came away stained with black ink. 

Odd. 

With blackened hands and a wound gushing ink, Legend headed towards the castle. New secrets of the castle were unveiled as he came closer -- the golden friezes, marble pillars, porcelain steps. 

And the fact that it hovered in midair. 

No, it wasn’t hovering. 

It was held. 

Legend's heart beat once more, and light spiraled into the world around him. 

And there stood Warriors' ghost, holding up Hyrule Castle above the tips of his fingers. His white tunic draped around his arms, his golden hair shone against a colorless world, and his half-closed eyes sparkled a sorrowful cyan. 

Legend hurried forward, sprinting, arms outreached, shouting nameless things and wordless platitudes at the ghost of his brother. 

The figure said nothing, silent, sweating diamonds as he carried the world on his shoulders. 

Legend sprinted forward. Ink gushed down his leg. It puddled like midnight behind him, splashing between his toes, staining a ground he could not see, turning the bottom of his feet slick with the blood of a stranger. 

He kept running. 

Black.

Blue. 

Grey. 

Gold. 

Further, faster. 

Black. 

Blue. 

Grey. 

Gold. 

Faster, further...

Black. 

Black. 

Black. 

Black. 

Blackblackblackblackblackblackblackblackblackblackblackblackblackblackb **LACKBLACKBLACK**

Legend stumbled and scrambled backwards. An abyss roiled beneath his feet.

He had been only a hair’s breadth away from falling in.

His heart pounded as his eyes panned upwards and fixated on the figure before him. 

There, separated from the rest of the world by a moat of nothingness, stood Warriors’ ghost. 

Legend coughed and wiped the spittle from his chin, turning back to see the legions of soldiers that trailed behind him. They marched forward, oblivious to the abyss, oblivious to Legend's warnings, unheeding of his cries to stop stop there's nothing there you need to turn back stop-- 

The soldiers dropped into the abyss like teardrops in the sea, vanishing off the surface of the world as they marched mindlessly toward their captain. 

Diamonds twinkled. 

Warriors' ghost trembled. 

Something struck Legend's back, and he fell over the edge. 

Thick puffs of midnight buffeted his face as he fell, pulling at his ankles and hair. Legend shrieked silently, mouth open, lungs airless, hoping, begging, pleading for the vision to end. 

He stopped falling. 

Cradled by something he couldn't see and couldn't touch, Legend looked upwards. The miserable grey of a hypothetical sky glowered above him, and Legend breathed stolen air as he sat upright.

It wasn’t an abyss, it was a pit. The soldiers around him wandered mindlessly, bumping against each other like flies on a window as they tried to climb out. 

Legend's heart beat, and the world gushed with light. 

And that's when he saw. 

[*-4][*5]

The ground beneath him illuminated in a cloud of silver, clearing away to reveal an endless expanse of silken navy beneath and above him.

Navy. 

And gold. 

The ground he had been walking on, the thing that had cradled him as he fell...

It was the scarf. 

Miles and miles and miles and miles of scarf. 

Miles and miles and miles and miles of living, writhing, weeping, twisting, turning scarf. 

Miles and miles and miles and miles of scarf...

All tied around Warriors' neck. 

Legend looked above him, at the forlorn ghost standing alone on a pillar of navy, the ghost choking on the weight of the world, the ghost whose skin flowered with bruises as the scarf grew tighter around his neck. 

Hyrule Castle remained balanced on his fingertips. 

Another last soldier fell into the pit. 

The scarf tightened around Warriors' neck. 

Hyrule Castle shook. 

The scarf unraveled. The ground opened. Hyrule Castle crumbled into innumerable marble-white roses that floated away on the breeze, their thrones tearing at Warriors' skin as they blossomed into the sky. 

And a golden-haired Atlas wept as the weight of the world came crashing onto him. 

Legend wailed as the net of scarf beneath him fell away. He plummeted into the true abyss, each breath and heartbeat stolen by the roses flying through the air, reaching out to a world that wanted nothing to do with him. 

A river of silk navy flowed and fluttered above him. 

A pair of ghostly arms wrapped around him. 

And he stopped falling.

Suspended in midair by a net of navy scarf, Legend and Warriors' ghost clung to each other. Legend's skin burned and steamed where the ghost touched, but the veteran wept only relief. 

"Warriors..." Legend whispered, his voice cracking on every syllable. "Warriors...you're okay..." 

The ghost stared up at him with vacant, pupiless eyes. A forlorn coolness spread through Legend's heart as he remembered. 

The ghost did not speak. 

They never spoke. 

Something rustled beneath them. It began as a hush, a whisper, a faint, dreaded sound in a world of sorrow, but it grew louder the more Legend tried to ignore it. 

The scarf was ripping. 

It could not carry both Warriors and the world. 

Like fingers of a deity commanded by a heartbroken, self-sacrificing god, the scarf uncurled from around Warriors' ghost. It tightened around Legend's shivering, screeching form, holding him in a silent embrace. 

"Warriors!" Legend cried. 

He caught the ghost right before the scarf let him go. Warriors' ghost dangled above the abyss, supported by nothing but Legend's grasp on his forearm. The veteran's skin smoked as he held on tighter. 

"Warriors! Please!" 

Warriors' ghost turned towards the sound, eyes glazed with platinum. 

And he spoke. 

"L e t m e g o..." 

"No!" 

"P l e a s e. . . I ' m s o t i r e d . . . " 

Legend shook his head, twisting within the net of scarves that supported him, trying to pull the ghost to safety. 

Warriors' ghost sighed. 

The skin of Legend's hands burned faster, burned brighter, burned until there was nothing left. 

And the ghost fell. 

Legend scrambled and wailed, reaching out with bloodied and melted hands, begging the scarf to save its master, to save him, to save the broken and precious things he had seen shine in the ghost's silver eyes. 

His heart beat once, twice, three times, and the world shattered. 

Legend's soul spun and splintered through the scarf, shooting up towards an iridescent light he could feel but not see. His consciousness flared and roared in his knuckles, in his eyelids, in the tips of his fingers and the bottom of his feet, twisting around him like a net and pulling him out of a world that didn't exist. 

The veteran was shot back into the real world. 

His body stumbled backwards, suddenly forced to bear the weight of a shattered consciousness and guilty conscience. His hand peeled and tore with blisters, his neck turned purple with a necklace of bruises, he coughed up blue thread and breathed in guilt. His body shuddered in place. 

The bowl of soup that had laid languidly on his lap since sunset spilled across his lap and splashed around him. 

Oil and grease glittered like dew on the grass. 

Somehow, it was still beautiful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really hope you enjoyed! If you felt like the writing in this chapter was better than normal, the credit to that goes to Squido (sky_squido here on ao3, you may have read some of her wonderful fics! If not, you're really missing out! If you like this story, you'll love hers). She put together a 36 slide presentation for me and taught me how to write better prose. I took at least two pages of notes and referred to them throughout writing this chapter, and I like to think that they really made the chapter better. 
> 
> Squido, if you're reading this, I love and appreciate you so much! 
> 
> Also, the scene with Hyrule and the fairies was inspired by an incredible piece of fanart Bubbls (@honey_bubbls on instagram) made for the fic -- it was absolutely stunning, and was the main inspiration for all the emerald imagery in that scene. Thank you, Bubbls! You are amazing!! 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you have any questions or thoughts, please don't be afraid to leave a comment! They really truly encourage me to keep writing, and I respond to every comment I get. 
> 
> Have a wonderful day! ❤️❤️❤️


	14. The Mannequins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many angels that live in the land of Hyrule. 
> 
> Not all of them are benevolent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I wanted to get this chapter out before Christmas, so I really hope you will enjoy it! 
> 
> Some housekeeping things before we begin. 
> 
> 1 - Happy Holidays and Happy New Year to all of you! Please consider this chapter a Christmas gift from me. I hope you all have a wonderful, restful next two weeks! 
> 
> 2 - Thank you so much for 600 kudos! I am absolutely floored and beyond honored that there are so many of you who see this story as worth your time to read, and I am just so happy that I’m able to produce something you enjoy. To everyone who has clicked/kudos/commented, I wanted to thank you so much and tell you that your support truly does mean the world to me. This story would have never gotten to the place it is today without all your generous encouragement! 
> 
> 3 - Just as a refresher, in this story, the Princess of Hyrule is Dawn (aka the Zelda from Zelda 1) and the Queen is Aurora (aka the Zelda from Zelda 2). Hopefully that will clear up some of the things that occur in this chapter! 
> 
> 4 - There are four different scenes in this chapter, all of which take place at different times during the SAME day. Even though said time of day is mentioned in each scene, I wanted to clarify it at the beginning so no one would feel lost. Here they are! 
> 
> Scene 1: Sunrise  
> Scene 2: Begins at sunrise, ends at sunset  
> Scene 3: Begins at midmorning, ends at sunset  
> Scene 4: Midnight 
> 
> 5 - Recommended Vibes! Here they are, in order of appearance. 
> 
> [*1] Un’altra Persona Slowed Down:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OW_F1_AWxkw&t=243s&ab_channel=GordoRamsei 
> 
> [*2] Something Can Grow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePIGL_A-M38&ab_channel=Jennyni20%28EpicMusic%29 
> 
> [*3] Horse Riding - Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild - Extended: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0UfYdN6TuE&t=5s&ab_channel=MusicalToasters 
> 
> [*4] The Way Home: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-V37avhfYo&ab_channel=EpicMondaysMusicExtensions 
> 
> [*5] Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure - Stardust Requiem:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLmIVDR5jyo&ab_channel=VIN 
> 
> Alright, there we go! Now let's get started!

[*1]

There are endless legends about the Angel of Judgement. 

It is rumored to be a great, terrible being with blackened wings and eyes dripping with the sins of a thousand men. It is a judge, a reaper, an executioner who cleanses the world with a divine, sulfurous smoke. Its scythe is said to be made of the bones of those arrogant enough to bite the hand that fed them and the hearts that loved them, an elegant thing that only shone after the execution of fools. It lives in the South Star and descends into the world through the light of the North. No choirs announce its arrival. No music accompanies its departure. There is no mercy for those under its judgement, only the coldest form of justice.

The Hero of Time had never seen this legendary creature. 

He had seen no tremendous deity that carried with it the authority of celestial judgement. He had seen no finality trail on the heels of sinners, no resolute retribution for those who played with the world’s moral fabric like a cat with string, no justice for the weak brought upon by divine hands. 

But in the eyes of the broken and the hearts of the fallen, Time had seen another deity. 

The Angel of Small Death. 

The Angel of Small Death, who ate away at souls lick by lick with a tongue of sandpaper and glass. It was the demon that hid within the blisters of souls, the whisper of temptation on the drunkard's shoulder, the midnight voice in the mind of the hopeless student, the giggle of guilt in the minds of those who had long since abandoned hope. With long, silken arms that stunk of lies and timestamped promises, the Angel of Small Death dragged men back to their demons. The feathers of one wing promised redemption, promised that this night would be the last night of debauchery, promised that all these habits were only as temporary as the will to commit them. The other wing, blackened and twisted, carried the truth and the reality of misery, of hopelessness, of addictions that crisscrossed planes both mental and physical. 

It was The Angel of Small Death that brought true judgement upon the world. 

Time walked through the streets of Nabooru Town, eyes turned up listlessly towards the sickly yellow sky. Daybreak had shattered over the horizon in small, ugly shards, and the silence of another unknowable day stretched out before him. Clouds of dust skittered beneath his feet. Morning glories refused to open their petals, lace-like ferns coiled against walls, and the teardrops of sunrise saturated the clouds above. 

The Hero of Time had only sympathy for this broken kingdom. 

He walked faster. He meandered through the now-empty marketplace, struggling to focus on the task before him. A raven flew overhead. A few children played behind an abandoned stall. Their leader, a dark haired boy with even darker skin, cast a quick glance at Time. His face twisted with suspicion, and he silently herded the other children away. They followed him obediently, not even bothering to question their leader's authority, and gladly relocated their game to a stall farther down the street. The boy’s posture straightened with purpose after ensuring that all his friends had been accounted for, and he hurried to follow after them.

For a heartbeat, the gazes of the leader of the children and the leader of the lost heroes met. 

Both of them had a scar running down their right eye. 

Not a word had been exchanged before the child dashed after his friends. The tension in the air became nothing more than emotional residue, and the Hero of Time flinched. 

How pathetic was it to be jealous of a child? 

Time's legs moved forward, yet his heart stayed behind. He glanced at the squat, rust-colored buildings around him, doors with peeling paint and street signs with letters so crooked they were almost unintelligible. His gaze was no longer pointed and calculated. No intention or hope focused his vagabond stare, and he skimmed through the streets with the fortitude and faith of a dead man walking. 

Yet he couldn't bring himself to turn back or give up. 

Maybe...just maybe...

Time's focus snapped back to him when he collided head-on with a villager. 

He let out a small grunt and took a few involuntary steps back, and the man before him fell back on the seat of his pants. Their eyes met. 

Concern prickled through Time's veins as he saw the young man carried a toddler on his hip. 

"Are you alright?" Time asked, extending a hand to help the man up. He nodded and took it with a shy smile. 

"My apologies, sir," the man said as he stood up, adjusting his hold on the toddler, "I should have looked where I was going” 

Time smiled to himself. This familiar air of apologetic gentility reminded him painfully of someone he could hardly bring himself to think about. Perhaps cordiality was an inherent character trait in the denizens of this broken Hyrule. 

“No worries, my friend. Are you injured? Is the little girl alright?” 

The man sputtered at the rumble of Time's baritone concern, clearly unused to being fretted over. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. And so is my daughter. Don't worry, we've suffered worse. Are you okay? You look like you have something on your mind." 

Time's eyebrows flickered upwards. Either he was incredibly easy to read -- which he knew wasn't the truth -- or the young man before him had sensed a familiar pain in Time’s expression and decided to reach out. 

The hero's heart twinged with admiration. 

“I’m looking for someone, and I can’t find him," Time explained. 

“Oh dear, is he your son?” 

The little girl rested her face against her father's chest and snored quietly. Time watched silently, then nodded. "Something like that, yes." 

The man's face scrunched up with sympathy. “I can’t imagine how stressed you must be. Listen, I need to get back home quickly to put this little lassie to bed and set some water to boil for her bath, but on the way I can try and help you look.” 

Even though Time knew nothing would come out of another search of the city, he didn't mind the thought of not being alone. With a nod, Time verbalized his agreement, and the man beside him let out a theatrical cheer before they set off. Clouds of dust followed behind them as they made their way through now-familiar streets. The toddler at the man’s side continued to slumber, safe in her father's arms. Time wished the sight could make him smile. 

"So tell me, what does your son look like?" 

Time scratched the back of his neck as the two walked along. "Brown hair, big eyes, freckles. Green tunic with brown leggings and gold accents. He’s maybe a few years younger than you. Good with a sword, incredible with magic.” 

The man's eyebrows pressed together in an inverted v. He tried to hide his surprise behind a cough and the serendipitous adjustment of his daughter's position on his hip. 

"I know that this sounds silly," the man began, "but the person you're describing sounds a lot like the Hero of Hyrule." 

Time piqued his eyebrow and let the muscles in his face soften with feigned confusion. "Oh? Do you know him?"

“Well, not personally, of course. I saw him once during the big parade the Queen and Princess hosted to celebrate the reconstruction of Hyrule Castle. He passed by on the princess' carriage -- I only saw him wave his hand from the window. Heh, I wish I got the chance to talk to him. Maybe get his signature or a scrap of cloth from the corner of his coat. My daughter would have cherished it like a doll.” 

If the atmosphere had been any more mirthful, Time might have laughed. Of course, he could always admit to the young man beside him the true identity of the person he was searching for, but the young father had already admitted that he hadn't seen him. 

“Oh dear, I got distracted," the man said, his face flushed with embarrassment. The two rounded a corner, and Time followed close behind his companion. "I'm really sorry about that! Uh, anyway, back to the topic of your son, when was the last time you saw him?” 

"Nearly a month ago." 

The man balked. He held his daughter tighter and took a few involuntary steps back. The delicate tightwire of trust the villager and the hero stood on shook. 

“We were traveling together," Time explained. "He disappeared. Some of the others in our traveling caravan think he may have been attacked or kidnapped.” 

The suspicion faded from the young man's eyes. Time couldn't tell if it had merely been hidden or if his explanation had been as convincing as it probably sounded. They walked along in silence for a few more minutes, approaching a cluster of rundown sheds at the fringe of town. Laughter, cursing, and shouting echoed from a tavern down the street. 

“What do you think happened?” the man finally asked. 

_I think he ran away._

"I wish I knew," Time replied. It wasn't a lie, but it sounded like one. 

The two walked along. Time pressed his arms to his sides and glanced blankly at the buildings towering before him. In all sincerity, neither of them had been doing a very good job of looking. 

“I really hope you find him," the man whispered. Time smiled sadly. 

“Thank you.” 

Sunrise continued to crackle over the horizon. Glass crunched beneath Time's boot, and the hero lifted his heel to reveal a shattered liquor bottle. The screaming and swearing from the tavern grew louder, and light spilled from its heavy paneled windows. The man beside him sneered and looked over his shoulder. 

"Is that MacMillan?" the man asked, pointing a finger towards the tavern window and gesturing to a portly man sitting at the end of a crooked table. "He has three kids and a pregnant wife and instead chooses to blow all his money on that stupid archery game. What a horrible man." 

A righteous anger flared in the man's eyes. Time looked away. 

He could only fathom the distaste and disdain in the young man's heart, but his own carried nothing but sympathy. 

Even from here, he could see the Angel of Small Death lurking behind each tavern-goer.

“There’s so much pain in this place," Time whispered. 

"Of course there is. This town and this kingdom have suffered far more than they should have ever had to.” The young man cupped a hand behind his daughter's head and smiled to himself. “But we'll be stronger because of it. There is more to this kingdom than just wasteland.” 

Time mumbled something that sounded vaguely affirmative, but articulated none of his thoughts. The two made their way to the edge of town, their search as fruitless as Time had expected it to be, and stopped before a small shed. 

"Ah, looks like we’ve made it to the end of the line. Welcome to my humble abode," the young man declared, a smile on his face. 

His dramatic words and plastic bombasticity did little to hide the embarrassment in his voice. The shed looked like it had previously been a storage house or pig pen, and a sheet in substitute for a door fluttered in front. Time watched as the young man placed his daughter on the floor and urged her to get some sleep before her bath, and the little girl toddled off without another word. 

"You have a beautiful daughter," Time said, his voice echoing with a warmth it had long lacked. 

"Thank you," the young man mumbled. "Um, I'll do my best to keep an eye out for your son. What's your name, anyway?" 

"My friends call me Time." 

"That's a nice name." There were none of the usual quips or traditional, curious comments, only a respectful acceptance of the proffered information. "I, uh, should have introduced myself earlier, but I’m Trip. That’s my daughter, Harmony." 

"What a beautiful name." 

The young man nodded in agreement. "Her mother chose it. I thought it was a bit strange at first, but now I think it's beautiful." 

Time had to stop himself from asking where the aforementioned mother was. If the small shrine at the front of the house and the reverent tone of the father's voice meant anything, the woman had been taken up by angels far more honorable than the one lurking in the tavern. 

"I'll be going now," Time said, having realized that his presence was no longer wanted. The young man flushed and stammered, even suggesting that Time stay for a moment and have a cup of tea, but he refused graciously. 

"Well, then, I hope you find your son soon, Mr. Time." 

"Thank you for everything, Trip." 

The two shook each other's hand, and Time waved goodbye before making his way down the street. A pair of small, barefoot feet followed after him. Time turned around in curiosity and let out a soft "oh" of surprise as he came face to face with Harmony. 

The girl carried a small jar of fireflies against her chest. The tips of her lashes glowed green from the firefly light, and she gestured for Time to come closer. 

"Give this to your son,” she whispered, “when you find him." 

Harmony handed the jar to Time. He held it gingerly, marveling at the hopeful light shining within, and promised to do as Harmony instructed. 

Trip ran after them, his face alight with mortification. 

"Oh goddesses, I'm so sorry if she's bothering you, Mr. Time. She didn't mean to be disrespectful, she just doesn't know what fireflies mea--" 

"Don't worry. It's alright. I appreciate this gift very much. Harmony, you have my word that I will do as you said." 

The girl nodded gravely. Her father swept her into his arms, waved goodbye to his new friend, and retreated back to his shed.

Sunrise stained the sky. Pained laughter echoed from the tavern. The streets were empty, and Time walked faster. 

The Hero of Time stood alone in the street, with a jar of fireflies in hand and the Angel of Small Death trailing on his heels. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*1][*-2]

Sunlight was a strange thing.

It streamed between the thin birches of the forest, illuminating the path Hyrule and the lynel walked along through filtered slits. It reflected off the stream beside them in glittering, gleaming chunks, shimmering atop the water like ice floes from a far away country. The hairs on the lynel's mane shone gold from the light, and the shadows of birds flying before the sun dashed across the floor. Flowers turned their head to meet the newborn day, and the silhouette of a hero and the lynel he sat upon flickered along the forest floor. 

Goosebumps crept up Hyrule’s arm as the light washed over him. His blood prickled against the paradox, and he wrapped his coat tighter. The lynel's muscles roiled beneath him, and Hyrule swayed gently from side to side in a now-familiar rhythm. He shifted the position of his bag in his lap, wincing as innumerable bottles of red potion clinked about within, and munched on a sugar cube. He drew the Link doll closer to his chest and made a face as the sugar burned his tongue. He had eaten so many in the past hour that his tongue had started to chafe, but a squeeze of the doll dulled any whisper of pain. 

A tuneless song echoed through the air. It took Hyrule a moment to realize it came from the lynel, who was apparently trying to imitate the two-toned chittering of the birds above. Hyrule turned his attention back to the doll in his hand and ran a finger across its torso. The hard part on its chest was still there, the only indication that the white ring was still safe and sound. 

He wondered what it felt like to have a ring for a heart. 

"Master Link, is everything alright? You haven’t said a word since we left the fairy fountain.” 

Hyrule nodded, then, remembering that the lynel couldn't see him, mumbled in the affirmative. He could barely bring himself to say more. So many thoughts and emotions webbed through his mind, a tortuous netting of premonitions he didn't understand and didn't have the energy to. With each step closer to Nabooru Town, the tight knot at the back of his head grew tighter. 

"I have a lot to think about," Hyrule said at last. 

"Are they happy things?" 

Hyrule didn't reply. 

"Is there anything you wanted to say?" the lynel asked.

... 

... 

... 

"I don't even know where to begin," Hyrule confessed. 

It felt like the first truth he had spoken in a thousand years. 

"Speak whatever is on your heart. I'm here to listen." 

A shaft of light pierced through the forest and lay across Hyrule's lap. On a rose thorn on the side of the road, a firefly slumbered, its holy eyes turned away. 

And Hyrule confessed. 

He confessed the betrayal, the cowardice, the secrets and sins he carried with unspoken knowledge, a far-away mirror broken by his hands and speckled with his blood. He confessed to letting his courage grow dormant, so much so that it might never breathe again. He spoke in hidden words, in double meanings, in shadows of a thousand flavors that meant as little and as much as their intonation. His heart pounded as the truth gushed forth, cloudy and stale with forgone relevance, and a chain unbundled around Hyrule's heart. 

His story came to an end, and the world was silent. 

The lynel said nothing. 

The firefly remained asleep, and Hyrule relaxed.

"Master Link, before the sun sets today, we’ll arrive at Nabooru Town. You will have the chance to redeem yourself. I urge you to take courage.” 

Hyrule was silent. There was no way to argue with the lynel's logic, yet his heart burned and his limbs shook. 

Fear of the unknown was one thing. 

Fear of the known -- of the painfully, terribly familiar, of things once loved and now detested -- was another. 

Hyrule squeezed the doll tighter, wishing that it provided courage with the same liberality that it gave healing. A cut along his leg healed, and the chafed flesh of his tongue mended from the magic.

“I must advise you against holding the doll so frequently, Master Link.” 

Hyrule was snapped out of this thoughts by the unexpected reprimand. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"You already know that the healing effects you’re currently benefiting from are nothing more than a mask. As soon as you let go of the doll, the true state of your health will be revealed.” 

The lynel's words were true. Hyrule relaxed his grip on the doll, and a familiar fatigue began to clamber along his spine. His tongue burned once more, and the cut on his leg reopened.

“If you rely too much on the doll to cover up your injuries, your body will not heal properly, and whatever ailments you suffer from now will only be exacerbated. Even your Life Spell isn’t complex enough to heal your present sickness. Please seek out a doctor as soon as you’re able and prioritize your recovery.” 

“I’m not sick.” 

Birds flickered up from the trees they roosted in as the lynel let out a loud sigh. "“You must acknowledge the reality of the problem before you if you wish to fix it.” 

Silence. Sunlight sparkled on sapphire stone, and the sullen cessation of speech seethed subconsciously. 

Hyrule's limbs locked up, and his breathing became short. For a moment, he wished nothing more than to return to the fountain. His fingers threaded through the lynel's mane. The beast lowered his head, and the sunlight shone off the iridescent obsidian of his horns. 

"A non-confrontational nature is a beautiful thing, but denial is not. Be wise, Master Link.” 

Hyrule said nothing. The doll rested against his chest. The lynel slowed his pace, walking languidly through patches of sunlight and eventually resuming his tone-deaf humming. Hyrule popped another sugar cube in his mouth and winced as the sharp edge scraped against his gums. 

A question entirely irrelevant from the ones screeching against his conscious festered on the tip of his tongue. He considered swallowing it, but with only a little less than a day's worth of traveling before him, there seemed to be little reason to deny himself the small luxury of entertainment. 

"Can I use the doll for magic?” 

The lynel's pace grew uneven as he tried to process the question. "May you please explain what you mean by that?" 

Hyrule ran his thumb down the doll's face and over its hard chest. "There’s a tremendous energy reservoir within the doll, far greater than the one I have now. Should -- can I use it?” 

The lynel grunted. “In theory, yes. In practice, no. I’ve never created an artifact like this, and I must respectfully ask you not to take any risks with it that you wouldn’t allow someone dear to you to take. If, for any reason conceivable, you drain the doll’s magic supply and then are separated from it, the energy debt will be demanded from your own reservoir.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“The energy will be taken from you. If it cannot be found in your magic, it will be stolen from your body. Your true body, not the healthy facade perpetrated by the doll.” 

“..." 

"That means, in the best case scenario, you will die.” 

Hyrule’s eyes widened. 

“And the worst case scenario?” he whispered. 

“Worst case scenario, you live, but with a price.”

A cloud covered the sun, and the light faded. Hyrule shivered, whether from the sudden drop in temperature or the lynel's words, he didn't know.

“Please promise me that you will be wise when using this artifact.” 

“You have my word.” 

Dirt and stone crunched beneath the lynel's hooves. The fabric of Hyrule's tunic rustled, and the glossy curls atop his head fluttered against the wind. 

The forest turned to brushland, then to open meadows. Hares darted through the plush grass and tiny poppies swayed in the breeze. Crimson-tailed vixens lurked behind tufts of grass, dashing away from the path as the lynel approached. Hyrule's heart thundered. The day grew bright, then blinding, then dark as the sun slid across the sky. A humid heat slogged through the air. 

It would be a firefly night. 

Hyrule tensed. 

Nabooru Town came into view on the distant horizon. Hyrule bit his lip. His tongue burned. The taste of metal and iron stained his teeth, and the aftertaste of sugar sloshed in his mouth. The knot at the back of his head grew tighter. His limbs twitched with uncertainty. A familiar grudge steamed within him. 

The lynel came to a stop. Hyrule slid off the beast's back and slung his bag over his shoulder. Boxes of sugar cubes and countless potion bottles clattered about within.

He could barely breathe. 

“Are you ready?” the lynel asked. 

“...I don’t know.”

“Listen to me, hero. You have changed over these past few months. Your moblin friend confined in me that he had seen something different in your eyes, and I must admit that I agree with him. May you tell me, before we part ways, what that change was?” 

Words from a far away memory echoed in his mind. 

_"Link, you’ve changed. And whatever that change was, or whatever that change caused you to do, has hurt you.”_

His heart softened in memory of the moblin’s words. 

“I…”

“My friend, I already know the answer. I want to hear it from your mouth and know in my heart that you understand what you’ve done.” 

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

“I got too close to other people and--” 

“No. You learned to love.” 

“...” 

“From the bottom of my heart, hero, I want to congratulate you. You’ve learned a lesson that many of us never have and never will. What the moblin told you about becoming soft and letting yourself get hurt may be true, but this is one of the most worthy sacrifices you could make.” 

Hyrule's eyes widened, and the terrifying weight of finally being understood crashed onto his shoulders. 

A breeze swept through the grasslands. The lynel stood proud, letting the wind thread through his hair, and placed a scarred hand on Hyrule's shoulder. 

“Is it the fault of your friend that we found you nearly dead in the middle of a field?” 

“Kind of.”

“Are you angry with him?” 

"Him? No. No, never him."

The first firefly flickered through the air. Hyrule didn't shirk from it. 

“Do you believe in this friend? Do you love him?” 

"Yes. From the bottom of my heart.”

“Forgiving failure is the definition of believing in your friends. Hero, don’t be afraid to forgive. And don’t be afraid to love.” 

Clouds the color of roses drifted across the sky, and fireflies danced through the air like living stars. Hyrule hugged the doll to his chest, trying to let the warm waves of magic dull his thoughts. 

"This is where we part ways," the lynel said at last. "Farewell, hero.” 

“Wait, before you go, may I ask you a question?” 

The lynel turned back to him, head bowed in deference. 

“Of course, Master Link." 

“Please tell me...please tell me the truth...why did you help me? I've done nothing to deserve your compassion" 

"Hero," the lynel said, his voice cool and patient, "I am simply a monster with the heart of a man.” 

The sound of a song never sung echoed through the air, and Hyrule swallowed the shame in his throat. 

"And I’m a man with the heart of a monster.” 

The lynel's eyes widened. Hyrule turned away before the beast could speak. 

"Goodbye," the hero whispered, his voice crackling with gratitude and grief. "I appreciate your words. I truly do. I hope we meet again.” 

The lynel nodded, and the two parted ways. 

Fireflies watched the hero cross the empty grasslands alone, and the world mourned the broken heart of its broken hero. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[*-2][*3]

It was too hot to be listening to Warriors' instructions. 

Wild's focus drifted into the breeze as he watched a ladybug clamber over a blade of grass. The sun beat down on his back, warming the cloth of his tunic and the leather of his boots. A dragonfly buzzed through the air. The midmorning wind carried with it the scent of a flower not found, regret of mistakes never made, and the longing for friends he had never met, and Wild's eyebrows furrowed together in frustration of an elusive memory. 

Warriors continued to talk. Sky nudged Wild in the side, and Wild suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be feigning interest in the captain's blathering. 

"Wild, do you understand what you're supposed to be doing?" Warriors asked, running his hand down his face and picking idly at his maroon eyebags. 

"Of course," Wild responded, lying with practiced ease. The champion gave him a half-heartedly inquisitive look, then relented. 

"Alright then. Wild, Sky, Wind, I want you all to meet us in the inn before sundown. Hopefully you'll be able to complete your task and do another sweep of the town before then." 

Sky and Wind nodded. After a heartbeat, Wild did too, even though the purpose and object of his agreement was unknown to him. 

Maybe he should start paying a little more attention during Warriors' briefings. 

Sky, Wind, and Wild turned to gather their belongings before heading to town. Four and Twilight slumbered by the smoldering fire as Wild clipped the Sheikah Slate to his belt. Warriors had fallen asleep while waiting for Sky to roll up his bedroll, and none of them had the heart to wake him up. 

"Hey, where's Legend?" Wind asked, glancing around the silent campground. 

"He said that he needed to use the bathroom," Sky replied. "I think we should get back to town before the sun gets too hot. Hopefully these guys will wake up soon. I wonder why they're still asleep..." 

"They probably stayed up late," Wild explained, happy to finally be able to talk about a subject he might have known something about. The trio set off at a languid pace toward Nabooru Town, the rolling meadows before them reflecting the sunlight shooting down from above. A stifling breeze pulled at Wild's hair and warmed the sweat on Wind's face. Sky grumbled something about it always being too hot or too cold in this Hyrule, and a peevish silence fell over the group. 

Wild picked at the starburst of scars on his face and looked anxiously between Wind, Sky, and the town on the horizon. 

He had absolutely no idea why they were going there. 

He really, seriously needed to pay more attention to the captain. 

"Hey, Sky," Wild began, "what exactly are we supposed to be doing?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Like, what did Warriors want us to do?" 

Sky let out a curt breath. "We’re going to town to speak with the guard and draft a letter to send to the Queen and Princess.” 

“A letter?" Wild asked. "What is it supposed to say?” 

“We’re supposed to let them know that we haven’t found Hyrule yet. Maybe they’ll send out a professional search party or something," Wind explained. 

Wild scoffed. “Are we not professional enough?” 

“We’re just dudes with swords, not detectives," Wind calmly explained. 

Wild's eyebrows flickered into his hairline. He always knew that Wind was on the sharper side for his age, but it was still surprising to hear such acute and humble words from such a young man -- especially when they were words Wild hadn’t realized on his own. The champion's eyes met the Skyloftian's, and a mutual, subtle shock shivered between them. 

"Okaaaaaay," Wild finally said, "but why us? None of us can even write in Hyrule’s Hylian.” 

Sky huffed. "Were you paying attention to Warriors at all?” 

"I forgot, okay?” 

“Even your memory isn’t that bad," Wind said. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

A taut, unfriendly tension kindled in the air. Sky and Wind carried on, not bothering to soften their earlier words with a smile or half-hearted laugh. Eyebags shone under their eyes. Their posture was half-melted and crooked. It was obvious that they would much rather be sleeping than walking around and dragging the weight of their increasingly-impossible mission behind them. 

Wild bit his nails. As much as the situation had been out of his hands, he had played a role in making Wind and Sky's morning a little bit worse. A familiar, trickling heat dripped down his chest and back. He inhaled quickly, glancing at the rose-colored scars that adorned his arms and neck, and turned to face his friends. 

"Sky, Wind, listen to me for a second. I’m really sorry that I wasn’t paying attention. I should have been following along a little more closely, and I’ll make sure to do so in the future. I'm sorry if my questions made you feel tired or irritated. I know that both of you are really tired, and I shouldn't have taken your patience for granted." 

Sky and Wind's faces softened with pleasant surprise. The creases on their faces smoothed out, and the tension in the air melted into pure and simple sleepiness. 

“I’m sorry for being snappy at you," Sky began. "Even though I was tired, I shouldn't have been rude to you. I'm sorry, and I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't happen again." 

“Me too," Wind said, voice as soft and thoughtful as the ocean breeze that had raised him. "I know how boring it can be to listen to Warriors' briefing sometimes. I'm sorry if I made you feel embarrassed." 

Wild shook his head. “No, no, it’s my fault. Again, I'm sorry for tiring you guys out and wasting your energy. I’ll buy you guys lunch after we sort out this deal with the letter. What do you want? I met a baker yesterday when we first entered town, I can see if he has anything nice.” 

The sleepiness in the air was almost immediately replaced with excitement. 

“Do they have anything salty? I’m in the mood for something salty," Wind exclaimed, his familiar lopsided grin illuminating the air around him. 

“I would prefer something sugary -- do you think they have sponge cake or something? Or a red potion? We need to restock on those anyway.” 

Wild nodded to himself and unclipped the Sheikah Slate from his belt. "I’ll check for all of those things. I didn’t spend too much time chatting to the baker guy, but I’m sure he’ll be glad to elaborate about his products when he sees me open my wallet. And about the red potions, let me make a note of that in my slate so I don't forget." He tapped twice upon the slate's screen and set it to dowse for red potions -- hopefully the electronic buzz the slate was bound to release when he passed by a potion shop would counteract his forgetfulness. 

The trio entered town with easy-going smiles on their faces and hopes for a tasty lunch in their heart. Wild grinned quietly and held the Sheikah Slate closer to his chest. 

“So how exactly is this letter writing thing going to work, and how long do you guys think it'll take?” Wind asked. 

Sky shrugged and tilted his head. “Well, Warriors chose the three of us because he said we’re the best communicators -- please don't ask me what he meant by that, because I don't know." Wind laughed and Wild fidgeted uncomfortably at the strange compliment. “But anyway," Sky continued, "we’re supposed to decide on what the letter says, and then have one of the guys in the Royal Guard write it, since none of us know Hyrule’s Hylian. We're supposed to meet them at the post office. I’m hoping it’ll only take half an hour or so. Maybe if we finish quickly we can head out from town and make our way to Hyrule Castle -- the Queen and Princess might have some ideas on what to do.” 

A handful of guards met them as they entered the post office, sweating anxiously under their silver armor and the pompous crests of violet attached to their helmets. Wild waved to them, trying and failing to remember any of their names, and instead offered each of them an apple. The guards took them graciously, muttering hushed "thank you sirs" under their breaths. 

"Half an hour, you said?" Wind reiterated, glancing at Sky as the three of them took a seat. "That doesn't sound too bad. Let's get this done quickly, then." 

It did not take half an hour. 

Not even close. 

Sky, Wind, and Wild stumbled out of the post office nearly ten hours later and two before sunset, their faces flushed and hands stained with ink and heads screaming with questions on how everything had gone so horribly, terribly wrong. 

It had all started with Sky insisting on opening up the letter with “My dear Queen and Princess,” not understanding that a letter to a monarch didn’t require such an embarrassing level of familiarity. Wind was on the complete opposite end of the formality spectrum, wanting to write the letter in bullet point style and list to the princesses all the places they had already looked. The idea, while smart in theory, infuriated both Sky and the Wild, who insisted that it was terribly rude to format a letter addressed to the leaders of Hyrule in such a causal manner. The guards, goaded on by the heroes’ disagreement, started offering their own ideas, and the conversation devolved from there. Hours had slogged by with no words being written and all manners of harsh words being tossed back and forth. When they had finally settled down to write a first draft, they figured at the last second that the guard had accidentally written it on a piece of scratch paper with a chamber pot catalogue on the back. The second draft had been written in print, and another guard remembered just before they sent the letter off that formal letters should always be written in cursive. Another two hours had passed before they wrote their third and final draft, and by the time they left, imprints of their rear ends seemed to be engraved in the post office couches. 

Great communicators -- what utter baloney. 

All of them sat on the post office steps with sweat trickling down their faces and a dozen bitter thoughts echoing through their minds. Wind pressed the back of his hand to his cheeks to cool down his face, and Sky hid his face in his hands. The Skyloftian was absolutely irreconcilable over the final product of the letter -- he had shed more than one mortified tear while trying to explain that their final draft was far too emotionless. 

"A letter with such serious and sad news should be handled with at least a little bit of compassion," Sky muttered, eyes dull with defeat. "Just imagine how heartbroken the princess and queen will be to receive it -- it sounds like an autopsy report!" 

Wind grunted and crossed his arms. "Do you really think the princess and queen are that soft? You don't need to spoon feed them the truth. I mean, Sky, listen, just look at this kingdom. It looks like Ganondorf chewed it up, downed three cups of laxatives and then pooped it out. I'm sure they've received worse news than something like this. They'll be fine." 

Sky shook his head and folded his hands at the back of his neck. 

Wild's heart burned, and the smell of teal ghosts and things too precious to be held for any longer than a heartbeat dangled from his fingers. 

"Here, I'll go get you guys lunch. No need to brood over this. What's done is done, and we can only do the best with what we have now." 

Wind relaxed, and Sky nodded quietly in acknowledgement of the truth in Wild's words. The champion gave both heroes a friendly rub on the back before hopping down the stairs and turning to go. 

"Wait!" Sky exclaimed, waving a hand in the air until WIld stopped and turned around. "Don't forget to get red potions!"

Wild tapped his slate and gave Sky a thumbs-up. “Of course. I’ll be back with you guys in a minute. Everyone else is supposed to be at the inn, right?” 

Wind nodded. “I think so! I'll keep you updated on where we are through the Pirate's Charm. Don't take too long!” 

“Alright! I’ll be back before you guys can say piccadilly." 

Wild dashed off, smiling to himself as Wind loudly and slowly drawled out the word 'piccadilly' behind him, and set off toward the bakery. His heartbeat slowed as he meandered through the streets and drunk in the quaint, domestic beauty of the little town. He marveled at the flowers and ferns growing along jaundiced brick walls, tiny tufts of grass that grew between wooden porch boards and birds nests snuggled in roof gutters. His shield thumped his back as he walked along. Flakes of paint fluttered off of it with each step, and Wild idly wondered how much it would sell for. It was rather beat up, but it had to be worth a few dozen rupees. At the very least, the futuristic make and model of the shield should fetch him a few pity points with whoever he sold it too. 

The idea was tucked at the back of his mind as Wild entered the bakery. Aromatic puffs of sugar and spice clouded through the air. People of all walks of life came and went -- apparently Wild had decided to saunter by during the busiest time of day -- and a fine coating of flour settled on his lashes as he waited in line. With eyes squinted against the hustle and bustle, Wild peered at the offered delicacies. 

A kingdom's worth of sweet, savory, and sour things were splayed out before him, heart-shaped pastries and swollen sponge cakes and loaves of bread frosted with sugar. His Sheikah Slate buzzed quietly at his side as he pulled towards the front of the line -- he needed to remember to ask the baker if he had any potions on hand -- and Wild quietly tallied the cost of all the things he wanted to buy. Of course, he would get something for Sky and Wind, but there were a lot of things that the others might like. There were carrot cakes and sourdough sandwiches, macaroons and fruit tarts, and all manner of treats Wild knew the others wouldn't want to miss out on. 

He cast a glance at his wallet and furrowed his eyebrows. 

Twelve rupees. 

That would barely be enough for him to buy a snack for Wind and Sky. 

Darn. 

"Excuse me, sir, is everything alright?" 

Wild's ruminations were interrupted by the baker. He instinctively shook his head before looking up and realizing he was at the front of the line. His mind whirled at a thousand paces a second, trying to find a way to gracefully admit that he didn't have enough money for what he wanted to buy. He bit his lip. 

"I, uh, I'm not sure I have enough money on hand to purchase everything I want. I'm really sorry, I didn't realize until just now." 

The baker waved a hand in the air and gave Wild a gentle smile. "No worries. It happens all the time. If you have something on hand that's of equal value to whatever you wanted to buy, I'll gladly perform the exchange." 

Wild glanced at the shield on his back, then offered it to the baker. The portly man's eyebrows flickered upwards in mild surprise. 

"Would this work?" Wild asked. The man laughed. 

"Of course, of course, but this shield looks like it's worth a good hundred rupees. As optimistic of a person I like to think I am, I doubt that you're planning to spend that much on lunch."

Wild grinned. "Well, you see, I'm buying lunch for nearly a dozen strong young warriors. If a hundred rupees or more is the pricetag to make sure all my friends are well fed, then I'll gladly pay." 

The baker's expression softened. He nodded to Wild as he passed the shield off to an associate and busied himself with assisting the champion. 

"Okay, so....I think I'll take one of those sponge cakes for my friend Sky, and a pretzel for Wind. Could I also have a slice of carrot cake and sourdough sandwich too? I think Legend and Warriors will like those. Oh, and a packet of those buttered biscuits and maybe a container of rice pudding. Twilight and Time love that stuff. And, uh...who am I forgetting...oh yeah! May I get a few macaroons for Four? Yes, four should be enough." 

Wild nodded happily to himself as the baker placed his orders on a tray.

"Are you going to buy anything for yourself, sir?" the baker asked. 

"Uh, no. I don't think so. I think that's all -- wait! I almost forgot to get something for Hyrule. Uh, what are those little pink things?" 

Wild pointed to the small, frosted pink pastries one of the other bakers had brought out from the kitchen. 

"Fairy cakes," the man replied, walking over to the back counter and bringing one over for Wild to get a better look at. "Very sweet and very sugary, a favorite among children and magic students." 

Wild nodded to himself and smiled. 

"I'll take one of those! I'm sure my friend will love it." 

"Keep in mind that these are very perishable," the man warned as he placed the fairy cake with the rest of Wild's orders. "They go bad after only a few hours, so I urge you to get this to your friend before the frosting becomes stale." 

The smile on Wild's face flickered, but he plastered it back on before its brief disappearance could be noticed. "That shouldn't be a problem. I'll find my friend soon. He'll like the pastry a lot, and everything will be fine." 

If the quaver in Wild's voice had been noticeable, the baker didn't make any indication of it. His orders were collected and placed in a paper bag. After passing over the twelve rupees in his pocket and having his shield quickly appraised, Wild was handed the bag with his orders contained within. Its bottom quickly grew dark with grease as it exchanged hands from the baker to the champion. 

"Take care, young man," the baker said. "It's a firefly night. Don't do anything reckless." 

"I won't!" Wild promised, feigning understanding of the baker's warning. "Thank you for everything!" 

Wild turned to go. The Sheikah Slate at his side buzzed once, then twice, then again and again. Wild slapped his forehead as he realized he had forgotten to ask about red potions. He hurried back to the baker and asked if they had any potions left in stock, only to be met by a confused silence from the establishment's owner. 

"Sir, we don't sell potions here." 

Wild's nose scrunched in confusion. 

"Is there any nearby store where they're sold? I really need to restock." 

The baker shook his head and let out a patient sigh. "There aren’t any potion shops in Nabooru Town.” 

Wild's eyebrows furrowed. This was strange. The Sheikah Slate's dowsing feature may not have been exceptionally precise, but it was never wrong. 

Oh, well. No point in wasting the baker's time. Wild re-tied his ponytail and wiped a sheet of sweat from his neck, then waved to the baker as he left. He placed all the food in his Sheikah Slate as he exited the shop. The device wouldn't stop buzzing. It seemed to be convinced that there was an overwhelming wealth of potions very nearby, and the buzzing only grew more feverish as seconds passed. Wild tried to shut the device off -- a feat he wasn't even sure was possible -- but could barely see the screen from the sunset glare. He walked to the edge of town, trying to find a suitable shadow to shield the slate from the glare. Lush meadows stretched out before him. Wild held the Sheikah Slate up to the horizon and hoped that blocking the sun with the slate itself might allow him to better see the screen. His focus faltered when his eyes fastened on a humanoid silhouette cresting a faraway hill. 

[*-3][*4]

Wild froze.

There was something familiar about that silhouette. 

The cautious, careful gait. 

The slim shoulders. 

The faint smell of awe-inspiring magic and dirt and fairy dust. 

The Sheikah Slate buzzed again, and Wild finally understood. 

A crackle, then a pop, and Wind’s voice fizzled through the Sheikah Slate. 

“Wild, are you coming? It’s getting late. We wanted to eat before we moved out.” 

“I found him,” Wild whispered. 

“What?” 

“I found him. _I found him.”_

Wind’s urgent questioning was forgotten as Wild dropped the Sheikah Slate. The ground thundered beneath him. The world became a blur of green and yellow and pink. His pace was uneven, crooked, stuttering and lopsided with childlike hope. 

Clouds parted, and the last rays of sunlight illuminated Hyrule’s form. 

Wild shrieked with relief. 

It was him. 

_It was him._

Wild sprinted forward, heart burning and arms outstretched, letting the sunset breeze tear through his hair and a month’s worth of grief brim in his eyes. Hyrule first recoiled in confusion then leapt forward as he recognized Wild’s low, blistering gait. The two fell towards each other like birds in a storm, a thousand words burned into their faces but none coming from their mouth. 

The space between them closed. 

And Wild wrapped Hyrule in his arms. 

He tossed the traveler into the air, then squeezed him so tight he could only squeak in protest. Hyrule wheezed in greeting, no air left in his lungs to speak with, and rested his head against Wild’s shoulder. A breeze rustled. Fireflies droned joyfully. The silence between them grew expectant, but Wild couldn’t find the words to say. 

He couldn’t believe it. 

He couldn’t believe that he held his friend in his arms. He couldn’t believe that the goddesses had answered his only and most earnest prayer. He couldn’t believe that there was no teal smoke twisting around Hyrule’s form, no whisper of a spirit caught between dimensions, no fading memories of decayed camaraderie and broken promises. 

Wild swung Hyrule around, relishing the sound of his laughter, then set him down. The traveler was breathless. Wild hugged him again, noting how tightly the lost hero clung to him. 

It was Hyrule who spoke first. 

“I missed you so much. I’m so sorry I left. I’m so so sorry.” 

Wild’s smile vanished. 

_Sorry I left?_

…

… 

… 

Had Hyrule left on purpose? 

Had all this pain and worry and the innumerable sleepless nights been for nothing? Had this all been a product of vanity? Impulse? A cruel joke, selfish isolation in a paradoxical plea for more attention? 

A hot flare burned through Wild. 

Hyrule winced and stepped back. 

Wild stopped. The tiny fragments of his memories scraped against the back of his mind, and he remembered who he was. The things he had lost, the lessons he had learned, the tremendous importance of the moment before him. 

He shook away the heat, and turned to look back at Hyrule with heart and eyes gushing forgiveness. 

Perhaps he didn’t understand what Hyrule meant. Perhaps he didn’t understand the traveler’s thoughts, or motivations, or the reason behind the haunted look in his eyes. 

Fireflies buzzed around him. 

He did understand one thing, however. 

If the goddesses had brought Hyrule back to him, he would cherish him, flaws and paradoxes and worries and all. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Wild said at last. “I’m not mad at you.” 

Hyrule’s eyes shimmered. 

“How?” he whispered, his voice so soft that the setting sun was somehow louder. 

Wild said nothing. 

His open arms and open heart spoke for him. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*-4][*5]

_Dear Queen and Princess Zelda,_

_We regret to inform you that the search for the Hero of Hyrule has so far been unsuccessful. Maze Island has been thoroughly searched, as have Darunia Town, Nabooru Town, and all adjacent regions._

A hushed, rattled breath echoed in the room. Blurry eyes skipped over text that had now been read a hundred times over. Gloved fingers ran along the edge of the letter, kneading the paper and softening the edges. A quiet heartbeat reverberated underneath a too-tight corset, darkened with understanding and the twelve-ton burden of realized dread. 

_Our concern for his well being only grows as time passes … there is no guarantee that he is still alive …_

The paper shook, but there was no sound. Only the slivers of starlight through the window and the distant glow of fireflies illuminated the paper. No matter. The reader had already memorized every word. 

_We extend our deepest condolences and apologies to you, and shall return promptly to Hyrule Castle to discuss the next route of action._

_Sincerely,_

_The Royal Guard + Friends of Link_

Silken fingertips grew stained with ink as they brushed over the letter. Ivory gloves were pulled off and cast to the side, and the letter was read once more. 

_We extend our deepest condolences and apologies to you, and shall return promptly to Hyrule Castle to discuss the next route of action._

_We extend our deepest condolences and apologies to you..._

_...our deepest condolences and apologies..._

Ink dripped from white fingertips and darkened the hem of a thousand-rupee dress.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

Link was gone. 

The princess dragged her fingernails up her arms and curled into herself. 

Link was gone. 

The starlight was cold, and the moon didn’t shine. 

After a moment of silence, the princess stood up, the handkerchief on her left wrist tightening as she did so. Her fingertips had already turned purple from the lack of circulation, but the pressure brought only comfort. Crinoline and silk brushed against the wood floor as tiny, ivory slippers tapped against it. With shaking, trembling steps, the princess crossed her darkened bedroom and approached her vanity. Wheels clacked behind her. Metal rattled as she took a seat. An oil lamp was lit with her right hand -- the one that still had feeling in it -- and a kingdom's worth of perfume, makeup, and jewelry glittered before her. 

A million lies reflected against iridescent perfume bottles. 

The princess tightened the handkerchief and forced herself to look at her reflection. 

A lace of crimson veins pulsated against her sclera. Her cracked lips let out little rubies of blood with each sudden movement, and an eczemic flush tore at her cheeks. Smeared foundation and runny mascara glistened under her eyes. Cheekbones pulled up against pale skin. 

The letter stared at her from the vanity table. 

She didn't look back. 

With a heart barely beating, she picked up a wide-toothed comb and ran it through her hair. Knots snapped and unfurled. Twists straightened. Curls opened. Sunset orange hair turned to silk with every stroke of the brush, and it fell like a curtain about her face. A thin veneer of foundation hid her rashes. Another covered the golden scars running down her cheeks and neck. Her breath trembled. She took the letter from the table and ran it through her fingers, then hid it in the folds of her dress. 

The Queen could not find out about this. 

With fingertips still stained with ink, the princess applied a thick coat of lip gloss to her lips. It caught the flickers of starlight through the window and glittered like morning dew on rose petals. Lie by lie, she became beautiful, and the wingbeats of a thousand small, fanged angels thrummed in her ears. 

Her reflection stared back at her, glowing with fake health and undeniable beauty. 

She truly looked like the Princess of Hyrule.

The handkerchief tightened. Porcelain skin turned lilac. 

A pair of knuckles rapped upon the bedroom door. Blood thundered in the veins behind the princess' ears. Her vision grew blurry. The princess wiped away a dangling pearl of gloss from her bottom lip and turned towards the door. 

"Come in," she whispered. 

The door creaked open, and Impa entered. The pallid yellow light from her oil lamp sunk into the creases of her face. Cataracts glowed behind intelligent brown eyes. They drifted over the sight before her, widening slowly as they took in the illuminated scene. 

Dozens upon dozens of dress form mannequins were propped up against every corner of the princess’ bedroom. 

Some were dressed, some were not, yet all turned protectively towards the tiny princess on the vanity. The princess' left arm sparkled lilac in the cool light. A silk handkerchief wrapped dangerously tight around the delicate bones of her wrist. Impa came closer, eyes brimming with grief, widening with understanding as she approached. 

The handkerchief tied to the princess' wrist was also tied to the wrist of a slim mannequin. 

"Princess..." 

The princess turned away and brought her hands to her face. The mannequin jolted closer. She shook, but not from the cold. 

"I'm sorry," the princess whispered. 

Impa set her oil lamp down on the vanity and extended her hand to the princess. 

The princess was still, then held Impa's hand so tight her fingers turned numb. 

"We can't let the queen know," the princess said at last.

Impa opened her mouth, but closed it when the princess continued. 

"In the state that she's in, she won't be able to handle it. She's too...she's too...it might make everything worse." 

"With all due respect, my Princess, you're not handling it very well yourself." 

The mannequins looked on in silent deference, hollow representations of a crowd, of warmth, of protections and safe things that had all disappeared the minute the letter had arrived. In the shadows lurked a legion of old demons and fingernail-sized angels, the stench of relapse and old habits reawakened, the smell of trauma and soundless death at the hand of a thousand papercuts. Dress forms sagged against the walls, cotton hearts dripping with compassion, cloth warmth and distant understanding. 

"I can't let her know,” the princess whispered, fiddling with the handkerchief on her wrist. “We can't let her know. It's...it's too much. If it's too much for me, how much more will it be for her? She deserves...she deserves her last days to be happy ones." 

"Princess, do you really believe that this is wise?" 

The princess' face hardened with determination. Her eyes met Impa's, sparkling with freckled, green-eyed, dark-skinned courage. 

Her city of mannequins looked on as she spoke. 

"Impa, I already know that I am a coward." 

"Princess Zelda, that's not--" 

"But at least let me be a coward who gives my people the chance to be brave." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨ Dojyaaan! ✨ I hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you’re wondering what’s up with the Princess and the Queen, don’t worry (or, well, maybe do >:D), things will be elaborated on much more in the chapters to come. I hope that this chapter was worth the wait and that it lived up to your expectations! If there’s anything you wanted to say, please don’t be afraid to leave a comment! You already know that I reply to each one 😊 
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to wish all of you a Merry Christmas (to those who celebrate), Happy Holidays, and very very Happy New Year! Please take care, everyone!!


	15. The Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Zelda is a living cliche. 
> 
> And she knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, everyone! I'm back with another chapter. This one is a late birthday gift for my wonderful friend Ingrid! She's an incredible friend and phenomenal artist (if you like LoZ and LU and good art, I highly recommend you check out her insta over on @starrydewdrops !). And when I say she's a phenomenal artist, I mean it. She made a painting of a sunrise using only pastel colors that I absolutely fell in love with -- so much so that it was the inspiration for the last two scenes in this chapter. I really hope I did that painting justice! 
> 
> Anyway, some housekeeping things before we begin! 
> 
> 1) I still have 2 TMSKoL comments left in my inbox that I have to reply to -- if you're one of those people, please know that I'm going to reply as soon as I can! I just wanted to put this chapter out without any more delay. Thank you everyone for your patience with me! 
> 
> 2) Thank you SO much for 650 kudos!! I am absolutely floored by the positive reception this story has gotten so far, and I sincerely hope that the chapers to come will be worth your time and investment. 
> 
> 3) Recommended vibes! Here they are in order of their appearance: 
> 
> [*1] Sekibetsu EXTENDED: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfs8oDRw_FU&ab_channel=ConSolo 
> 
> [*2] Peaceful Street Corner EXTENDED (Did I just recommend a meme song to set the mood for this chapter? Perhaps): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chcH-S94cso&ab_channel=Nitroxgamer 
> 
> [*3] Kygo Ft. Kodaline Official Instrumental:   
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1_1hCY-EGQ&ab_channel=DnvsgameTv 
> 
> [*4] Flight Range | BoTW EXTENDED: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpv1sluyGp8&t=79s&ab_channel=MusicalToasters 
> 
> [*5] Waterside Shrine | BoTW EXTENDED: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ECCv-IPuPw&list=PL_FXJpotnUoBxHxEW8YPY0YnTGsGG3Irn&index=68&ab_channel=MusicalToasters 
> 
> [*6] Kena: Bridge of Spirits | Lost Brother: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUZMBRfuWlE&ab_channel=TheophanyRemix 
> 
> I unfortunately couldn't find an extended version of the third song, so if you want a way to loop it without doing it yourself, click the following link: ( https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=C1_1hCY-EGQ&ab_channel=DnvsgameTv) 
> 
> I think that's all! I apologize if there are any grammatical, spelling, or formatting errors. I did my best to weed them out myself, but if you notice anything off please don't be afraid to let me know in a comment!

[*1]

Velvet carpets rustled underfoot. Candlelight flickered against the walls. Golden bowls, clocks, and other useless gifts from equally useless allies sat atop mahogany tables, shining sadly in the dim light. Tight-lipped portraits of ancient Hylian monarchs stared down from their silver frames, watching their youngest descendent. They averted their pale blue gaze as she crumpled against the door.

The princess’ silk dress crinkled as she collapsed. Her hands ran up and down her forearms, nails stained with red hair dye and finger pads pink with a permanent chill. Zelda rested her head against the queen’s bedroom door and ignored the overwhelming emptiness of the corridor before her. 

Silence. 

Then came a cough and a wheeze, a creak of ancient joints, the tapping of a cane on old wood and the wailing of an ailing woman. Zelda shrunk as the coughing on the other side of the door grew thick and bloody. The queen's laborious breathing and Impa’s words of encouragement grew faint as the minutes passed. The princess' heart beat faster. She pressed her face against the bedroom door and stilled in hope of a sound. Even though a slab of wood nearly half a hand thick separated her from the scene within, it only took her a moment to conjure up the sights she could not see. 

There was Queen Zelda huffing and puffing and trying to hobble to the bathroom without falling over. Impa was at her side, holding her by the waist, encouraging her every time she took a step without sobbing. Their voices fell to a low murmur as the footsteps grew faint. Something in the princess' stomach twisted into a flaming knot as the silence returned. She bit her lip and cringed from the taste of lipgloss and white powder, ignoring the rising taste of bile in her stomach. 

The silence persisted. 

Zelda withdrew into herself. The shadows were a little more threatening, now, and the lights weren't as warm as before. She rubbed her always-cold fingers together and glanced to her right. A dress mannequin mounted on a set of wheels stared back, cloth face sallow and sickly in the low light. Zelda tightened the handkerchief that bound her right wrist to the mannequin's left, imagining a sprinkle of freckles across a non-existent nose and a familiar, sugar-sweet smile on chapped lips. The thrumming in her chest slowed as the delusion tightened. 

_ “Don’t worry, Princess, I’m right here. You’re safe.” _

Her breathing slowed to a gentle rattle. The empty hallway didn't smell like Ganon's breath anymore. 

_ “Please don’t cry. I’m right here -- why are you still so sad?” _

A patrolling guard on the opposite end of the corridor gave the princess an odd look. Perhaps a month ago it would have been one of concern, but the palace guards had grown used to the princess muttering to herself in a voice an octave lower than her own. 

Zelda dropped her face into her hands and pressed her always-cold fingers to her hairline. He was gone. How could he be gone? Her fingertips grew colder as the hallway grew darker, and each breath was thinner than the last. 

She no longer remembered a time where the dark didn’t remind her of Ganon, didn’t remind her of a freezing dungeon floor, of shackled wrists, of food wriggling with maggots and sprinkled with rat droppings. Every creak of a weak floorboard or poorly-oiled door hinge brought back memories of Ganon's heavy-lunged exhales, of sweaty breaths that sounded like thunder. Ganon had come to visit her often during the first few days of her imprisonment. He never touched her, never even approached her; he only observed the golden shimmer of wisdom beneath her skin and the teary shine in her eyes. 

Her hands had always been warm back then, filled with a youthful amalgamation of recklessness and stupidity she had been foolish enough to call courage. She had run her hands down her legs and warmed her freezing skin, pressed fingers to her neck and eased the chill nibbling against her jaw. 

Ganon had watched, saying nothing as the twelve-year-old princess of Hyrule rocked herself to sleep with her own hands. 

But that patient, calculative silence was not the kind Zelda had grown terrified of. 

Zelda couldn't remember the exact moment when things began to change, but she remembered the cause. There had been rumors of a valiant young lad, no older than the princess herself, some sources claimed, that had made it his mission to defeat Ganon and save the princess. Zelda had dismissed the rumors the same day one of Ganon's underlings had first brought it up. She considered herself too young to be worth saving and too old to be tricked into believing she would be. 

If the rumors had been a trick, then Ganon had fallen for it. The silence that trailed on his heels morphed from thoughtful to furious; his eyes blazed as he questioned Zelda time and time again if she had any involvement in the rising of the alleged hero. His breath turned from thunder to lightning and fire, scorching the walls and the floor and the edges of her tattered dress. Every breath Zelda dragged through her teeth stunk of brimstone and magic. She wasn't fed anymore. Her wrists bled constantly from the shackles and the shimmer of wisdom grew dull under her skin. Burns from magic fire peeled back the layers of her hands. Bruises sparkled on her arms and legs like tiny, patchwork rainbows; the soothing hum of soreness that came with them was the only thing that helped Zelda sleep at night. 

Her hands were no longer warm. 

Ganon came in more often. He was angry now, believing fully in the absurd rumors that a twelve year old was on the way to kill him -- and had a good chance of succeeding, too. He talked constantly about the hero: rumors, distant reports, speculations and observations from monsters and traitorous Hylians alike. Ganon tacked every curse under the sun to the hero's name. Zelda only nodded, head turned away, wondering to herself if she had the energy to believe the lies. The stench of magic and malice saturated her lungs and the ribbons of scars along her arms. Quiet, sad thoughts spilled from her eyes, dripping down her face in muddy tears she didn't care to wipe away. 

A kingdom -- what a silly thing to die for. 

A monster -- what a silly thing to break for. 

A hero -- what a silly thing to hope for. 

The thoughts tumbleweeded through her mind. She could only muster up the faintest sparks of guilt at the first thought and a deep sense of restless peace at the other two. 

Days slogged past. Zelda grew gaunt from hunger, but never asked for food. She drifted in and out of consciousness like a sailboat on the ocean, letting memories of her cozy past spill over the edges and clean her wounds. 

Someone had knocked on the dungeon door. Zelda was silent. She didn't have the energy to listen to Ganon today. 

A pause. Another knock. Zelda never recalled Ganon being this courteous. She turned her head towards the door, eyes narrowed in exhaustion. With a creek of old hinges, the space between the door and the doorframe widened. 

And there he was: a tiny hero, no taller than her, with blood splattered across his tunic and a brilliant smile on his face. 

_ "Hi, are you the princess?" _

Zelda almost wanted to laugh at the sweetness of the question. An unfamiliar sound echoed off the walls, and it took her a moment to realize she had. The boy, encouraged by the noise, drew closer. The smell of magic and fire clinged to his tunic. 

Zelda didn't know she was running from him until the back of her head smacked against the dungeon wall. 

_ "Oh, Miss. Princess, please don't be scared. My name is Link; I’m here to help you." _

Zelda shook her head and turned away. Even the childish honorific wasn't enough to make her laugh as she just did. 

The boy shuffled forward, hands swaying at his sides and shield knocking against his back. His footsteps grew louder and nearer, then stopped. It took Zelda a moment to realize that the boy was crouching in front of her, sitting on the other side of the fire that served as her jail cell door. 

_ “Here, look what I have! Look at this, don’t you have one too?” _

Zelda burrowed her face in the crook of her elbow. Link repeated his question, voice high and cheerful. Eventually, she gave in, permitting herself to glance at the boy between her now-cold fingers. 

And he  _ shone _ . 

Link's skin shone with a golden power, warm and gentle and indisputably divine. A light Zelda had thought died thrummed beneath her own skin, flashing and sparkling in time with her heartbeat. 

_ "I'm here to take you home. You're safe, now."  _

Link's hand reached through the fire, outstretched and unmoving even as the flames snapped against his skin. The hair on his arm turned brown, curling inwards from the heat, yet his smile remained brighter and warmer than the fire before him. 

Zelda reached out her hand. The fire vanished. Her hands were wrapped in Link's own, and she stammered out an apology when he winced from the coolness of her touch. 

But he didn’t turn away. He didn’t hiss at her cold fingers or broken cheekbones. He didn't recoil from her scars or her sobs or the summer-colored sorrow on her face. With a grunt and a heave, Zelda was lifted up, feet dangling just off the floor as Link carried her home. 

And even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling. 

It was in that instant that Link became Zelda's best friend. 

Link became everything to her. He was her advisor in all the important political decisions that no preteen should have to make. He was her playmate in the royal garden. He was the one who taught Impa how to smile again, who showed Zelda how to do a walking handstand, who taught the guardsmen how to play the recorder with one hand and roll a marble between the knuckles of the other. In the kitchen, in the one-room classroom, in the library and in meetings that stunk of shoe-polish and mahogany, Link was a constant presence. He was a buffer against the darkness that would always reek of Ganon, no matter how old the memories grew, a beacon that beat back the emptiness with a vibrance of his own. Link was a testament that she had survived, she had made it; he was a living reminder that no matter how cold and cracked her hands became, there would always be someone to hold them. 

And so began the process of healing. Zelda forced herself to walk through the castle hallways alone, legs trembling with bad memories and neck hairs erect with fright. More often than not, she would collapse from the effort and melt into a trembling heap, only moving when the sound of Link and Impa's footsteps melted the silence. Her hero would always smile and say you’re so brave, Princess, if only I was like you! Things will be better in no time, don't you think? and wait for Zelda to smile, maybe even agree. 

The day that she made it all the way from the highest floor to the garden -- alone, no less -- was the proudest day of her life. Link cheered and Impa clapped, tears running down her face, all of them relishing in the beauty of a broken heart on the way to healing. 

But there was little time to rejoice over these small victories. Days melded into weeks, then months, then years. Ganon's armies banded together: they ransacked villages, burnt ports, and demanded the blood of the Hero. Zelda was forced to forget herself and her traumas as she lifted the burden of a kingdom on her back, wrapping herself in corsets and tights and elegant dresses as she carried herself with the authority of a leader. Link, now taller, calmer, and wiser than before, made himself the princess' closest confidant and protector. He put on a brave face when it was revealed that he was the one who could read the scrolls, he was the one who could wake Zelda's slumbering ancestor, that with one more adventure, he would be the one to truly and completely restore peace to Hyrule. 

And so Link packed his things: a small sword, a shield, two worn boots and an old tunic. He reviewed the plan with Impa, cast a determined glance at the ancient princess asleep atop an altar, and marched forth into Hyrule with crystals on his belt. 

Princess Zelda and Impa saw the hero off, waving to him until he was just a speck on the horizon. 

Things were fine during the first few days after his departure. Impa was beside her this time, and more often than not, she was enough to make up for the empty air at Zelda's right side. And with the future of a kingdom balancing on the tips of her always-cold fingers, Zelda was too busy to worry about herself anymore. Her hands were full with innumerable domestic and foreign obligations: meetings with farmers and friars and fair-skinned boys hardening into knights. Her hands grew red and raw and almost warm from all the work, so much so that Zelda wondered if the scar Ganon had left on her soul had finally healed. 

It took one nightmare for her to unlearn four years of bravery. 

She woke up drenched in sick and sweat, hair knotted at the back of her head and old scars screaming like newborns. Her dress was burnt (even though it wasn’t), her head was bleeding (even though it wasn’t), the darkness smelled like Ganon (even though it didn’t) and the glow under her skin had faded (even though it hadn’t). She stumbled through the palace hallways, screaming for Link, running from memories that were too tangible to be just that. 

Link didn't come. 

It was Impa who found her sobbing before the guest bedroom door that had housed Link often enough for it to be called his. It was Impa who carried her to her feet, who changed her out of her soaked dress, who brushed out the knots in her hair and wiped the tears from her face. It was Impa who told her -- reminded her -- that there was nothing to be afraid of. Zelda did her best to believe, but the twisted, jagged scar across her soul had opened too wide to be stitched back together with mere words. 

She fell asleep in Impa's arms, cursing herself for having grown so dependent on a freckle-faced boy who was destined to help everyone, not just her. 

Princess Zelda couldn’t bear to be alone, after that. Impa was always with her, and when she couldn’t be, Zelda closed herself in the seamstress’ room and held the hands of the dress mannequins. She imagined a familiar sprinkle of freckles across their nose, a sunshine smile, messy brown hair and a laugh that had begun its descent into baritone. Only after Zelda had fallen asleep under the dead stares of the mannequins would she allow herself to be moved, and waking up by herself always set her progress back to zero. 

Guards were posted on the ends of every hall and informed of the princess’ condition. They gave her gentle smiles, some out of pity, others out of sincere understanding, all of them telling her that she was strong, she would do this, she was braver than she believed herself to be. They held her hand and guided her down the steps and around the royal garden, chatting about flowers and baked bread and children, smiling until she smiled in return. 

Zelda lived every day feeling like she was dying, but she pressed on regardless. How would her kingdom live if she perished under the weight of it? 

The day that Link returned was a cold one. Zelda was sitting in her study, always-cold fingers pressed to parchment as she drafted a letter. The ink unfurled into black ribbons beneath the quill pen, curling and twisting into a soothing message to the disgruntled fishermen in Mido Town. Paper was folded. Wax was melted. A royal seal was pressed to the mouth of the envelope, and the letter was placed gracefully atop a stack of others that had yet to be sent. Zelda babbled cheerfully to a mannequin in the corner of the room as she admired her handiwork. 

She was halfway through recounting the complex grievances the farmers had written to her about when Impa entered the room. The words died on Zelda's tongue. Even though Impa was already painfully familiar with Zelda's condition, it didn't assuage the princess' embarrassment at being caught in her weakness. 

_ "He's back,"  _ Impa had whispered. 

All the mortified thoughts in Zelda's mind evaporated. She sprang out of her seat and slammed the door open, nearly flying down the stairs as she bolted to the sleeping princess' room. Wide-eyed guards watched her go, jaws slack with amazement at Zelda's quick feet and bright smile. 

The mahogany doors that had separated Zelda's sleeping ancestor from the rest of the world flew open. Zelda sucked in an icy breath, lungs straining against her corset, and stepped into the room. 

There was Link, shining as he always did, holding the now-awake princess' hand like one would a rose. Their eyes met. Zelda's focus shifted to the woman at his side, the faintly-familiar slant of her eyes, the curled tips of her lashes, the splash of pink across the bridge of her nose and the confused twitch of her lower lip. They approached each other slowly, like children staring at their own reflection for the first time, and recognized the burden of regret and constant confusion weighing on the shoulders of the other. 

Link watched with a smile -- that same shining, golden smile -- as Zelda made a new best friend. 

The other Zelda, being her ancestor, was treated as such. She was the one who ascended to the throne and became Queen. She was the one who dealt with the brunt of diplomacy issues at home and abroad, who sat in the biggest seat in the throne room and dining room and sunlit parlour. Zelda, the little one with the always-cold fingers and the scar across her soul, didn’t mind this. Power and prestige and the sparkle of a crown meant little to either; the sisterhood they shared meant everything to both. Months passed, and the Princess and Queen fell into an easy rhythm of working together. 

There was something about the elder Zelda that put the younger one's scars at ease. The smell of magic didn’t instantly make her sick anymore, and she was now brave enough to watch Link in the palace garden as he experimented with his new spells. 

_ "Look what I can do, Princess!" _

She understood little about the negative spells Link had been so excited to discover. She knew that he was enamored by them, that his whole body lit up when he brought opposite elements into being with nothing more than a flick of his wrist. She knew that they were powerful and dangerous, some wonderful backflip of fate that her freckled guardian had been so lucky as to uncover. 

And she knew that the spells stunk, that they had the same acidic stench as Ganon's breath, that they made her shake and retch and cry in embarrassment when Link activated them too close to her, that they were too much, Link, it's too bright, I can't take it! 

_ “Princess, I’m so sorry that I scared you. I shouldn’t have forced you to watch me practice.” _

She shook her head and held his hands and told him, no, it's my fault, I'm so sorry I made you worry, I'll always be there to watch you practice so would you please not worry too much? She forced herself to be brave -- to pretend to be brave -- for his sake. She put on heavier makeup, thicker coats, combed her hair in front of her face and sipped tea to push back the bile in her throat. She watched as he danced and flitted through the garden, twirling ropes of fire and ice and lightning and thunder. She laughed as he used the jump spell to pull off ridiculous acrobatics and muttered shy thanks as he used the fusion spell to mend the torn hem of her dress. When the smell of bad memories got to be too much, she quietly excused herself and hurried up to her room, biting her lip until little crimson pearls trickled down her chin. 

He always followed her when that happened, arms filled with kind words and kinder actions to supplement his apologies. Zelda, shamefaced, always accepted. Link would gently remind her that time would heal her wounds; she didn't need to hurry into wholeness, he had said. She busied herself with braiding the long hair at the nape of his neck, nodding along to his advice even though she didn't believe it. 

She had good reason not to. Despite her best efforts, her kingdom was growing sicker. The queen was always tired now, and had to go to sleep earlier. Impa was getting old. The guardsmen grew restless under the stagnant air of dreams deferred, and an unease had fallen over her world. 

Her kingdom was holding out for a hero, and this time, it wasn't Link. 

So the little Zelda with the always-cold fingers tried once again to heal. Again, she forced herself to start walking alone. First it was the hallway outside her bedroom, then the bedroom to the kitchen, then her bedroom to the kitchen and all the way back. The guards were ordered to stay out of sight to complete the lonely illusion, but even they couldn't help but peer around the corners and smile as their princess tried once again to heal for their sake. Princess Zelda religiously attended Link's training sessions, watching with an empty hand and empty stomach as he sent lightning dancing through the air. She went on walks through the palace garden just after the sun had set, clinging to Link's arm as fireflies danced through the air. 

_ "Aren't they beautiful, Princess? They're like little stars! Try and hold your finger out; if you're still enough, one might land on you." _

Zelda did as instructed. A cluster of fireflies flitted curiously around her outstretched hand. The bravest of them alighted on Zelda's porcelain skin, darting away almost instantly from the chill of her always-cold fingers. 

Link laughed. Zelda didn't. 

_ "Isn't it so nice to be outside? There's nothing to be worried about, you see." _

Zelda nodded absently. The fireflies droned cheerfully, and Link laughed at their antics. The princess turned away from his naivete. 

_ "Link." _

He turned to her, starlight dancing in his eyes. 

_ "Yes?" _

_ "Have I ever told you the story of the Firefly Princess?" _

She barely slept that night. It was hard to, knowing that she might have ruined something precious for him. 

The months slipped away faster. Link grew taller, curly hair sprouting like spearmint on top of his head. Zelda tried tirelessly to comb and braid it only to be disappointed every time; volume wasn't equivalent to length, and there was little material for her to work with. It was one of those warm afternoons filled with hairspray and sleepy attempts to style Link's hair that he had announced his upcoming adventure.

_ “Princess, I’m going to visit Nabooru Town tomorrow morning to investigate that portal Captain HIga has been talking about. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but there was something I wanted to tell you before I left.” _

The comb froze underneath Zelda's fingertips. She hastily returned to her earlier preoccupation before Link could take note of the disturbance. 

_ “You know those spells I invented, the negative ones?” _

Zelda whispered a quiet yes and busied herself with a snarl of hair at the top of Link's head. He grumbled as she tugged on it, gently working apart the tangled strands. 

_ “Well -- ouch! That hurts! -- there’s something I didn’t tell you about. Here, look at this.” _

The smell of magic blossomed in the air. Zelda swallowed thickly and stared at a freckle at the back of Link's neck, waiting for her vision to stop swaying, then turned her attention to the hidden thing cupped in his outstretched hand. A small rose made of ice laid in his palm. At Link’s gentle insistence, Zelda traced her finger along the freezing petals. 

_ “Since I’m the one who discovered the spells, I have a spiritual connection to them. That means I can tell whenever someone is using a spell I’ve created." _

He handed her the rose and turned to face her. She stiffened, but didn't flinch. 

_ “I know that you don’t like magic, but I also know that you don’t like being alone. If you would like, I can teach you how to use a simple spell -- the ice spell, for example -- and we can use it as a way to be a little closer to each other. Whenever you’re feeling lonely, you can activate the spell, and you can know in your heart that someplace, somewhere, I can feel it.”  _

Zelda stared at the frozen rose in her hand. Sunlight scattered on contact with the ice, dappling the floor with spears of rainbow light. 

_ "What do you think, Princess?" _

She said nothing. The scar across her soul ached, and her fingertips glistened from the cold. 

Her reply was almost too soft to be heard. 

Link left the next day. Princess Zelda, Queen Zelda, and Impa all saw him off this time, shouting words of encouragement as he sauntered over the crest of the horizon. 

Zelda's always-cold fingertips turned hard and blue the instant Link was out of sight. 

_ "Princess..." _

The princess looked up, eyes locking with the Queen's. 

_ "Is that magic?" _

The ice around Zelda's fingertips grew thicker. 

She nodded. 

_ "Oh my goodness," _ Impa stammered, staring with wide eyes at the ice frosting Zelda's hands. The queen's face grew slack with shock, then brightened. She turned to her descendent with a smile radiant enough to make the sun jealous. 

_ "You are  _ so _ brave." _

Zelda turned away red faced, but her fingers somehow felt a little less cold. 

Something clattered on the other side of the door, and Zelda was jolted out of her memories. The scene in front of her came back into focus: the empty corridor, the cold door, the silence of the portraits on the wall and the velvet carpet rubbing against her legs. Zelda cast an anxious glance at the door, forgetting that there was nothing for her to see but a dark slab of wood, and dropped her head into her hands. 

She hadn’t known it then, but those were the good days. The days before the Queen needed a cane and joint braces, before her coughing kept her up at night, before her skin folded like tissue paper around softening bones. Those were the days before her own fingers weren’t always covered up to her knuckles in frost, where she didn’t cling to dress mannequins and pretend they were the queen, but healthy, Impa, but young, Link, but here. 

The poisonous memory of last night's letter forced itself to the front of her mind. 

Those were the days.

The good days.

The days before her best friend was dead. 

  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[*-1][*2] 

"Hyrule, could you hold still for a moment? The photo will turn out all blurry if you keep moving around.” 

The traveler nodded shyly at Wild's reprimand and squared his shoulders, smiling once again for the photos. 

"Don’t be mad at him, Wild, it's my fault!" Sky said, grinning as he ran his fingers through the traveler’s hair. Hyrule giggled and squirmed away, but Sky wrapped him back into his arms. "I can’t help myself from playing with his hair. I mean, look how long it's gotten!" 

A friendly titter went around the group of Links, who had gathered at one of the more picturesque areas outside Nabooru Town for a few group photos. Frankly, Wild couldn't blame Sky for not being able to contain his enthusiasm. No one had been able to so far, and judging by the kind words and gifts that Hyrule was currently drowning in, that promised to remain the status quo. 

A smile crept onto Wild’s face as he slipped back into the role of cameraman. 

Sky and Wind had nearly exploded with joy when Wild returned with their lost brother in tow. All three of them had refused to leave his side as they lavished him with increasingly absurd expressions of affection. Sky had started work on carving identical wooden bracelets for the both of them almost immediately. Wind had spent the rest of his pocket money on cakes and taffy just for Hyrule (and poor Wild found his hand gratuitously slapped away every time he asked Wind for some of Hyrule's snacks). 

Their happy, aimless wandering quickly led them to Time. The bottle of fireflies the old man held in his arms were the only thing that helped the group recognize him; if it hadn’t been for the faint golden light it provided, the group might have mistaken him for some mourning ghost trapped between worlds. Upon catching sight of Hyrule, Time’s jaw and arms went slack with shock. The bottle of fireflies in his arms crashed to the ground. Glass and fireflies shot up into the air as Time stared on, dumbfounded, barely registering the three heroes that stood next to Hyrule. It was both impossibly awkward and impossibly heartwarming, becoming the latter decidedly more so when Time rushed forward and nearly crushed Hyrule into a hug. 

They had made their way back to camp even slower than before; with Time constantly checking Hyrule for wounds, Wind asking incessant questions, and Sky trying and failing to get Hyrule's wrist measurements for the bracelets, it was a small wonder that they returned before sundown. 

Warriors had been first to catch sight of the group as they left Nabooru Town, eyes squinted against the light and his own disbelief. When the group had made it back with their arms wrapped around Hyrule's shoulders, Warriors pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it turned purple. The next half hour had been filled with a harsh, cool-toned lecture on the importance of communication and sticking with the group, complete with a long, gruesome list of what might have happened to Hyrule if he hadn't been lucky to magically turn up on Nabooru Town's doorstep. There were tears in Warriors’ eyes, though, and when Hyrule's own eyes glistened with shame, the captain forgot the lecture and handed the traveler his scarf. 

"For safekeeping," he had said, "just to keep you warm. It gets cold at night, so you can sleep with it if you want." 

The group, now six, had crept back into the heart of camp with childish glee. Four had been teaching Twilight some simple calligraphy by the campfire. The smithy had screeched when he caught sight of the group and their long-lost companion, promptly spilling all the ink on his paper and pants. Twilight had bolted upwards and launched himself at the traveler -- Wild snagging their tunic collars at the last second was the only thing that stopped them from both toppling over. Four, still sputtering in surprise and trying to brush the ink off his pants (a futile endeavor he quickly abandoned), inserted himself in the middle of the group and wrapped his arms around Hyrule. At Wild's behest, the group had eventually organized itself into some semblance of a picture-ready formation, smiling widely as the Sheikah Slate snapped. 

"I think that's enough pictures for today," Wild said, propping up the Sheikah Slate on his knee. He swiped his finger through the pictures and deleted the ones that had turned out poorly. "I'll have a few good ones picked out later; you guys can decide on the ones you like most." 

A rumble of agreement swept through the group as they dispersed. Four, Sky, and Wind fell into easy conversation over the events of the day as Time, Twilight, and Warriors focused on cleaning up the rest of camp. Hyrule watched them work, having nothing of his own to pack up and no stories he was willing to share, then made his way over to Wild. 

"Where is Legend?" Hyrule asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Wild sniffed and deleted another blurry photo from his slate. "Using the bathroom, I think. Or something like that. He hasn't been feeling too well today; I haven’t even seen him since last night." 

"Do you know where he is? If he's feeling ill I might be able to help." 

Wild gestured to a thicket of trees on the far corner of camp. Hyrule mumbled something to himself and left with a wave, casting a glance at the rest of the group as they continued clearing up camp. They had said something about alerting the Royal Guard and making their way to the castle as soon as possible, so the traveler didn’t have much time to dawdle. 

[*-2][*3] 

The familiar tug of the ice spell on his chest had grown faint. Hyrule chewed his bottom lip and walked faster. 

He hoped the princess was doing alright. 

The golden glow of the forest around him distracted him from his melancholy thoughts. Mist curled from tree bark in the warm sunset light. Dragonflies and butterflies flew through the air, flitting through the breeze like scraps of wet lace, and dappled the rocks and grass below with their shadows. Evening dew hung like upside-down rain on the undersides of grass blades. A creek burbled in the distance. Hyrule brushed a few willow branches aside, stepping forward into the clearing they curtained, and let out a soft sigh at the scene before him. 

The brook he had heard gurgling earlier was a few paces ahead, whistling and sliding over the brown and grey rocks in the stream. Light shone off the backs of little grey fish as the breeze skipped by. Impossibly green grass crunched underfoot. Hyrule took a few steps forward and cast a glance to his left, eyes trailing a streak of neon orange across the sky. 

There he was. 

Legend sat on the far side of the river, feet dangling in the stream and eyes fixated on the distance. Hyrule swallowed his breath and approached quietly. He squinted his eyes and pressed his feet softly against the ground, trying to minimize his presence as much as possible, but failed to stifle a gasp when the sunset illuminated Legend's figure.

The man was a bloody mess. 

His arms, if they could even be called that, sat limply in his lap. They were mangled almost beyond recognition, crusted with blood and burns and wounds so deep that Hyrule could almost see the view through them. Bones poked out from the tips of his fingers. A twisted, brown scar ran from the bridge of Legend's nose down to his jaw. Shining blue bruises sat like a necklace around his neck, grotesquely complimenting the dim skylight in his eyes. 

Hyrule didn’t cry. He didn’t sniffle or sob or rush forward to wrap his bleeding friend in his arms. His face didn’t twist in shock, surprise, or disbelief, and his heart didn’t spill out from his mouth. 

He was silent as the freezing wind that had brought him home, joints locked and eyes wide as he comprehended the scene before him. 

_ I left him. _

_ This is my fault. _

_ What have I done? _

Hyrule's breath stuck to the sides of his mouth. He opened and closed it again and again, as if chewing the air would help him understand, and subconsciously tightened his grip on the Link doll. A rush of vitality burned through his head and cleared the fog in his mind. 

_ I need to do something. _

_ I need to fix this. _

The need to act was a familiar one to Hyrule -- it was what had propelled him to his current status as hero, after all -- and his mind fell into a familiar rhythm of observation and analysis. Legend was sick, that much was obvious. Some of the wounds were deep, others old, and, judging by the smell and color, all of them were infected. Hyrule curled his fingers around the doll again. A hot burst of magical energy blistered through his fingers, but the traveler didn't even wince. 

His Life Spell was a force of nature; while it worked much better on flora than fauna, he had healed innumerable wounds using its power. Burns and bruises and broken bones were nothing to him now, but something like what was before him...it would take several long, grueling sessions to completely heal Legend, if it was even possible at all. 

Legend's eyes were half-closed. His lips fluttered in prayer. Long, dull strands of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead despite the cool breeze, and a yellowish flush saturated his cheeks. 

Not only was Legend injured, but he was sick as well. 

Hyrule remembered his own illness and bit his lip. 

There was no way he could heal Legend in the state he was in. 

Butterflies drifted through the clearing, doubling their pace when they caught a glimpse of the ice-cold determination on Hyrule's face. 

_ I’m going to fix this. _

His grip on the Link doll tightened. 

"Legend?" 

His voice carried weakly in the balmy air. Legend slowly looked up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. One of his pupils was dilated. The other was only a black pinprick against a blue iris. Hyrule repeated his gentle exhortation. The veteran flinched and pushed something back and out of sight, but no other sign of recognition crossed his face. Hyrule took another few steps forward. 

The sun was still in the sky. 

Was it watching? 

Hyrule tried to smooth out the knot in his throat. 

_ He’s so sick he doesn’t even recognize me. _

_... _

_ What am I supposed to say? _

Legend, I'm back. 

Legend, are you okay? 

Legend, I missed you. 

Legend, I'm sorry. 

Legend, I know-- 

"Legend, I can heal you." 

The veteran turned to him once again, eyes cloudy with confusion. He shifted awkwardly, as if he was trying to sit on something, then nodded. Hyrule took a seat next to him as he tightened his grip around the Link doll. 

The sun lingered curiously in the sky. 

Thick ropes of white-hot energy tangled through Hyrule’s veins, and he sighed to himself. 

_ “If, for any reason conceivable, you drain the doll’s magic supply and then are separated from it, the energy debt will be demanded from your own reservoir.”  _

_ “What does that mean?”  _

_ “The energy will be taken from you. If it cannot be found in your magic, it will be stolen from your body. Your true body, not the healthy facade perpetrated by the doll.” _

Hyrule had experienced the depths of power within the doll for himself. Even if he managed to heal all of Legend's injuries, and then some, using only the doll's magic, he would barely use up even a sixteenth of the power within. There was no risk of running the doll’s magic supply dry. Even so…

Well. All he had to do was make sure he didn't let go of the doll. 

_ Inhale. _

_ Exhale. _

This should be easy. 

Hyrule brushed his fingers over Legend's stained, torn skin. He inhaled slowly, waiting until his heart had settled into a familiar rhythm, and allowed the spell to leak from his fingertips. The magic slogged in a hot stream from the doll to Legend. Hyrule acted as a conduit, channeling and refining the healing power as it passed through him, directing it to the innumerable burns and bruises and infected wounds. The magic was freezing hot; steam curled from Hyrule's fingers and eyes as he ran his hands over Legend's arms and fingertips and scarred face. Bloodied skin puckered and recoiled from Hyrule's touch. Legend whimpered and tried to pull back, but Hyrule held him tight. 

"You're doing great so far," Hyrule soothed, his voice pulled an octave lower by the magic streaming through his blood and voicebox. "Just stay with me for a moment; you'll be all better in just a minute." 

If Legend hadn't recognized Hyrule before, the sudden voice change did little to help. Yet the veteran sat still. His wide, unfocused eyes were still trained on Hyrule, trying and failing to recognize the contours of his protege's face. Hyrule paid him no mind, now directing the brunt of the magic towards mending the now-clean and uninfected skin. It bubbled and hissed underneath his touch, then softened as it melded back together. Wounds steamed, warped, smoothed and disappeared, leaving only baby-soft skin in their wake. 

_ Inhale. _

_ Exhale. _

The flow of magic stuttered. Hyrule tensed. He knew that he was nowhere near the doll's limit, but a characteristic cautiousness tugged at his fingertips. 

He needed to draw back.

With one hand's grip tight around the doll and the other tight around Legend's forearm, Hyrule stopped the spell. He took a seat on the grass and analyzed his handiwork. 

Not a single wound was left on Legend's body.There were no more burns or half-melted scars running along his arms, no jagged cut from nose bridge to jaw, no boney fingertips or foggy eyes or necklace of blue bruises. A healthy gleam had replaced the yellowish pallor from earlier. A breeze blew aside Legend’s glossy bangs, framing the heart-shaped curve of his cheekbones and jawline. He was completely healed, skin soft and uncreased as if he had just been born. 

Hyrule beamed. 

_ It had worked. _

The adrenaline slowly untangled around his heart. Exhaustion hurried to take its place, tugging on Hyrule’s eyelids and slowing the beating in his chest. He shook away the sleepiness as Legend slowly turned to face him. Yes, he might have used more of the doll’s magic reservoir than he had thought -- he had used closer to an eighth instead of the original sixteenth he had predicted -- but everything was okay. Hyrule shakily placed the doll in the front pocket of his tunic and let it press against his skin. 

_ Legend was okay. _

He watched silently as Legend's eyes slowly refocused. 

“Hyrule...?” 

The traveler nodded. Legend's entire face lit up, and Hyrule couldn't even choke out a greeting before he found himself wrapped in his brother's arms. 

"Hyrule! Oh Hylia you're safe, oh Hylia oh Hylia oh Hylia I can't believe it...I was so worried about you...I felt like I was going to die of fright..." 

Legend? Admitting to being afraid? Hyrule suppressed the urge to tease him when he felt Legend's arms tighten around his shoulders. 

"I'm so sorry, Hyrule. I'm so sorry I didn't...that I didn't try and--" 

"Stop." 

Hyrule pulled away from Legend's arms. The veteran's eyes widened as his eyebrows flickered upward, arms still outstretched to the empty space between them. 

"Hyrule?" 

"Stop. Listen to what I have to say, and please remember it." 

Legend gave a half-nod, every muscle in his body taut and braced against the words to come. 

The sun refused to go down. 

Hyrule tried to take solace in that. 

"Legend, none of this is your fault. None of this. You hear me? Nothing. Nothing at all. It's my fault that I wasn't there to help you or heal you. It's my fault -- everything is my fault. Listen, I--" 

The confession stuck to the bottom of Hyrule's lungs. He inhaled heavily, trying to dredge the will to redeem himself, but found no courage left to give. His gaze trailed weakly from his lap up to Legend's face. A cluster of fireflies flitted through the air, a warning from the goddesses, and Hyrule tried once again to confess. 

But there were no words left to give. 

"Hyrule...I, it really isn't your fault. You don't understand." 

"I understand perfectly well," Hyrule snapped. "You're hurting -- you're hurting so bad and so deeply, and I ran away instead of helping you. This is all my fault." 

The silence was heavy. Even the breeze couldn't sweep it away. 

"Here, how about this," Legend said, a strange, light lilt in his voice. "We can share the guilt. Everyone gets a little to himself. You already know that I'm a bit of a hoarder, so it might be good practice for me to learn to share." 

Hyrule barked out a surprised laugh. Legend punched him playfully on the shoulder and ruffled his curly hair, grinning when Hyrule grinned in return. The breeze sighed through the air between them, finally peeling away the stench of their mistakes, and for a moment, everything was fine again. 

Only for a moment, though. 

"Hey!" 

Legend and Hyrule flinched from the sudden noise and turned to the rustling patch of bushes it came from. Wild stumbled out a moment later with twigs in his hair and relief splattered across his face. 

"Oh, thank Hylia you guys are here. I was worried for a second that the both of you had gotten lost again!" 

Hyrule and Legend gave the champion a pair of too-tight smiles. Wild returned their grins with one twice as brilliant, saying nothing about how Legend looked miraculously better and Hyrule looked remarkably worse. 

"We're all packed and ready to go. Oh, and the guards are back," Wild said, jerking his thumb behind him, "They can't wait to talk to you, Hyrule! I think one of them almost peed their pants in excitement when they heard you returned." 

That got a laugh out of both of them. Wild smiled to himself. 

"I can't imagine why," Hyrule finally responded. "I hope they don't think they're in trouble or anything, now that I'm back." 

Wild snorted. "Are you kidding, dude? Those guards would gouge their eyes out for you. You should hear about how highly they talk about you -- it's like you're a god or something." 

Another round of chuckling. Wild's grin widened. 

"Anyway, let's head back to camp. We want to start making our way to the palace before it gets too dark -- Time says that if we're quick we might be able to make it to the coastline before nightfall." 

It was obvious to all of them that Time's estimation was on the uncharacteristically optimistic side, perhaps a side-effect of finding Hyrule, but Wild had no intention of saying so to their leader's face. Even though it was clearly too late to make it to the seashore of East Hyrule before the sun had completely set, it was nice to see Time so unabashedly happy.

With these thoughts rattling through his head, Wild beckoned for the other two heroes to stand up and follow him back to camp. Hyrule tucked something under his tunic and hurried to Wild’s side. Legend picked up a strange-looking mirror from behind him when he thought neither of them were looking and clipped it to the underside of his tunic. That was odd. Had the veteran started to take personal grooming more seriously? Wild chuckled at the thought. 

Sunlight filtered through the foliage as warm, humid air rose from the ground. Butterflies sat inside roses and ladybugs marched across the floor, forcing Hyrule to take a few surprised steps back when he almost stepped on them. The sky was aflame with brilliant pinks and yellows, and long, candy-colored clouds shifted across the sky. Wild cast a quick glance behind him. Legend and Hyrule were keeping good pace, with smiles on their faces as they took in the scene around them. The champion took quick note of how their eyes didn't meet and how their shoulders turned away from each other, but he said nothing. 

They looked happy, and that was what mattered. 

"Hey guys, do you wanna run up ahead of me? I think I've got another rock stuck in my boot." 

Legend and Hyrule nodded at Wild's suggestion. Their boots crunched against the underbrush as they walked ahead, tossing an occasional glance over their shoulder to make sure they weren't leaving Wild too far behind. The latter waved them away as he shucked off his boot and shook out the offending rock. 

Wild’s eyes snapped to their backs as they continued along, analyzing how Hyrule slightly favored his left side and how he kept something pressed to his chest. Wild's eyes narrowed in confusion as he slipped his boot back on. Aside from the limp, the traveler looked okay. Maybe he had a rock stuck in his boot as well? Wild mirthlessly shook his head at the thought. Legend looked fine as well, at least from the back, but Wild couldn't suppress the chill echoing up his spine. Wild chewed his lip. It was really too bad that Legend didn't keep a diary of sorts -- maybe he would have to convince him to do so. It was always much easier to check on his friends if they left behind physical residue of their worries. 

"Wild? Are you okay?" Hyrule called. 

The champion shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded, flashing a thumbs-up at the pair ahead. It only took him a handful of seconds to catch up with Legend and Hyrule and sling his arms around their shoulders. 

"So," Wild began, flashing Legend a sly wink. "You're looking a lot better. Didja have a good poop?" 

Legend startled in surprise until he remembered his earlier excuse about having to go to the bathroom. He let out a tight chuckle and scratched the back of his head, trying not to be too obvious about the way he shrugged off Wild's arm. 

"Oh, pffft. Yeah, I guess, but if I'm looking better it's because of Hyrule. He healed me up." 

Wild cast Hyrule an approving glance. The traveler gave him a bashful one in return and busied himself with the hem of his tunic. 

"That's really amazing, Hyrule! Our resident hoarder here was looking a bit scratched up last night, and I imagine spending all day in these woods probably made things worse. I haven’t seen this guy since yesterday evening, you know. That’s a lot of time for bad injuries to become worse. Anyway I can't believe your Life Spell is so strong!" 

Hyrule smiled again. It was still too tight around the edges. 

"Oh, thank you. I'm trying to get better." 

"Well, whatever training regiment you've been following is obviously working! Anyway, I'm really glad that we're all safe and sound. It's really great to have you back, dude. Now let's get back to camp before everyone starts panicking, yeah?" 

Hyrule and Legend nodded again. Wild had to bite his tongue to stifle a comment about how similar they looked when they did that. It was almost as if they really were brothers. 

[*-3][*4] 

Only a few more minutes passed before they made it back to camp. The guards fawned over Hyrule like girls over gladiators, exclaiming all sorts of strange-sounding greetings when he approached. The shyer ones hung back in awe as their bolder companions playfully punched Hyrule in the shoulder and cracked jokes about how much he had worried them. Wild watched cautiously, and after ensuring that the traveler wasn't overwhelmed with the attention, turned his focus back to everyone else. The rest of the Links had packed up their things and were preparing to head out. Wild waved to them and clipped the Sheikah Slate to his belt after volunteering to carry Time's chainmail ("you don't need it," the champion had urged, "so let me carry it for you") and the heavy bag of maps Twilight had slung over his shoulder ("I know that you want to go talk to the traveler, so let me hold your things. No, really, it isn't a problem. Run along now, Mr. Worrywart"). 

He made another sweep of the camp to make sure nothing of practical or sentimental value had been left behind, high-fiving himself when he found Hyrule's bag propped up by a maple tree. Thank goodness he had thought to double check! 

Wild crouched by the bag and raised it with one hand, guesstimating how heavy it was based on how many veins sprung into his bicep when he lifted it. Three. Hmmm, it was certainly a little heavier than what Hyrule usually carried around with him. What was in there? 

Wild tossed a glance behind him. Few people were around, and those that were certainly weren't alert. 

He turned back to the bag and untied the drawstring. 

An overwhelming collection of potions laid within, flanked by numerous small packets of what looked like sugar cubes. There were a few quilts and tunics, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a packet of gauze pads. Wild squinted and buried his hand deeper within the bag. His fingers brushed against a pocket-sized book with words he couldn't read, a small comb, and even more blankets (he never recalled Hyrule being the kind of person to chill easily, but again, he had never asked). Wild sniffed as he withdrew his hand. The bag seemed to contain nothing concerning or out-of-the ordinary for a humble traveler -- barring the unusual amount of blankets and sugar cube packets -- so the champion re-tied the drawstring and fell back. 

A sick feeling prickled through his fingertips. He cast another glance behind him, this time with wider eyes and a dark flush on his face, and swallowed the thoughts at the back of his head. Sure, snooping around in his friend's things may not be the most cordial use of his time, but he had to make sure that Hyrule was alright. After all, he had never seen Hyrule walking around with this bag before his disappearance; he had either bought it or received it during his time away, and with Hyrule's tendency to carry far fewer rupees than he needed, Wild was sure it was the latter. Of course the traveler knew his own world better than Wild did, and of course he wouldn't accept hand-outs from strangers, but the champion couldn't stifle his unease. He just had to check and make sure nothing malicious had been stuffed inside: a cursed object, poisoned snack, or maybe rusty blade...

Wild bit his lip as his realization became undeniable. 

Whoever Hyrule had been with over the past few weeks had clearly been taking care of him. 

There was that sick feeling in his fingertips again. Wild pushed it down, slung Hyrule's forgotten bag over his shoulder, and trotted back to camp. The rest of the group had already started to walk off. Four and Legend turned back to call Wild over and grinned in surprise when they found he had already fallen in step with them.

"That's a lot of stuff you're carrying," Four said, a sleepy smile on his face. Legend nodded in agreement. "Need a hand with that?" 

Wild shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm good. All my stuff is in the slate anyway, so I can carry some things for everyone else. Say, do you know where Hyrule is? He forgot his bag and I wanted to hand it back to him." 

Legend was about to answer Wild's question when Four piqued an eyebrow and spoke. "Oh so? Did you find anything in his bag that you needed to talk to him about?" 

"Huh? What do you mean? I just wanted to give him his stuff." 

The smithy's eyebrows fell flat over his brow bone. "Wild, I can’t believe I have to say this to you, but you shouldn't snoop around in people's things." 

Four gave him a harsh look. Legend looked away and walked faster, leaving the champion and smithy behind. 

"Haha, uh, you saw that? Oops." 

"Saw you snooping? No. Saw the guilty look on your face? Yes." Four shook his head and tucked a few strands of hair behind his ears. Wild colored in embarrassment. "If there's something you want to talk about with Hyrule, or anyone else, for that matter, ask directly." 

"Well -- that's the thing, man. I don't know what to ask him. I mean, I didn't even find anything bad in the bag. Just a bunch of blankets and potions and stuff. I just have a bad feeling about everything and I don't...I don't know." 

Four nodded absently, the kinstones on his belt clinking as he walked along. "I understand, I really do. It can be hard to talk to people if you don't know what the problem is, even more so if you don't know if they'll want your help. But you need to think about what you're doing. Nothing good comes from doing things behind people's backs, no matter how good your intentions are." 

Up ahead, Legend made a strange noise. Wild ignored it and turned back to Four. 

"Well, what am I supposed to say? I'm really worried about him, and I don't know if he's the kind of person who likes to talk about those sorts of things. If that makes sense?" 

"It does. And don't put pressure on yourself to find the perfect words to say. If you don't feel like you have the right words to tell him, you could always ask someone who does." 

Wild opened his mouth, closed it, and turned Four's words over in his mind. He scanned the group, skipping over Legend, and fastened his gaze on Sky and Time. 

"There's no need to rush things," Four warned. "He only just returned. This may be a bad time to overwhelm him with questions." 

Wild nodded and thanked Four for the advice, then hurried ahead. Speaking of overwhelmed, that's exactly how Hyrule looked -- he was walking in the middle of the caravan with guardsmen flanking him on every side. Their shock and awe at seeing their Hero hadn't ebbed in the slightest, yet, judging from the shy, red look on Hyrule's face, the traveler was starting to grow stressed from all the attention. 

"Hey, guys!" Wild called, gently pushing his way through the group and slinging his arm over Hyrule's shoulder. He pulled the traveler towards his side and stuck his other arm out at an odd angle, forcing the guards to disperse slightly. "I'm sure Mr. Hero here is just as happy to see you all as you are to see him, but we should give him some space. We're not sure what he's gone through this past few weeks, so give him a moment to breathe and collect himself. How does that sound?" 

The guards nodded obediently, some turning red and others groaning in disappointment as they filtered out through the group. The sun had finally started to set, with nightfall fast on its heels, but Time declared that they had made remarkable headway so far. The sweet scent of forest in the air gradually grew lighter. Innumerable boots thumped against underbrush, scaring away mice and other detritus-dwelling creatures, and little lilac blossoms sprouted between blades of grass. Indigo spilled over the sky and stars of platinum twinkled to life as the gold faded from overhead. 

In short, it was beautiful. Hyrule spoke up and acknowledged this fact, and only then did Wild remember the small figure he had pressed to his side. He stammered, smiled, and finally agreed with his friend's statement. 

_ Don't put pressure on yourself to find the perfect words to say. _

"Hey, Hyrule?" 

Hyrule turned to him. It was hard to see his face in the low light, but his breath was close enough to warm the side of Wild's face. "Yeah?" 

"Uhh...are you okay?" 

_ Dang it! I knew I didn't need the perfect words, but couldn't I have come up with something a little more eloquent than, well, whatever that was? _

If Hyrule saw or felt Wild cringe in embarrassment, he didn't acknowledge it. 

"I'm worried about my Zeldas," the traveler said at last. 

Wild exhaled loudly and slumped against Hyrule. Ah, now this was a topic he knew how to handle. 

"Hah, you're not the only one," the champion responded. "Hey, how about you tell me about your Zeldas? What are they like? If I recall correctly, you have two, right? What's that like?" 

Hyrule's eyes shone. "Oh, yes, yes yes! My Zeldas. Where do I even begin?" 

Wild listened eagerly as Hyrule launched into a heartwarming tangent; he spoke at length about how brave and courageous the young princess was -- Dawn -- how wonderful she was at everything from gardening to diplomacy. His chest swelled with pride as he described her unmatched chess skills, and Wild's eyes flickered upwards in curiosity (and no small amount of approval) when Hyrule praised her baking skills. And she was a wonderful friend too, Hyrule said, eagerly describing how often Dawn attended his magic training sessions. Something in his voice faltered when he mentioned how the princess wasn't exactly an avid spellcaster herself. Wild filed the incident at the back of his mind but said nothing else aside from requesting Hyrule to continue. 

With a smile wider than the moon, the traveler did as instructed. Aurora, the queen, he explained, was a little more enigmatic than her descendent, but still carried herself with the abundance of grace that distinguished her as a monarch. She could adapt to any situation in the blink of an eye and read a room like a book. She hadn't even batted a worried eye when Hyrule broke the curse and woke her up in a world centuries older than her own. 

"Wait, what?" Wild interrupted. 

Hyrule chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck. 

"Oh, shame on me, I think I've forgotten to tell you about this part. But now that I think about it, Queen Ze -- Aurora's story is similar to yours. A curse was placed on her many, many years ago, and she fell asleep for who knows how long. It was for a few centuries, that's for sure, but we don't know much beyond that. Anyway, the royal family kept her body safe and sound in this old room for a really long time, but I think they had started to give up hope that she would ever wake up. I was able to break the curse after my second adventure, and with her reawakened, she was technically first in line for the throne. Nobody thought she would want to take the position with things as they were but, true to her nature, she surprised everyone and did so anyway." 

Wild nodded, lost in thought. The thump of boots on gravel and the distant crash of waves were the only things disturbing their silence. 

"Does she ever talk about her friends?" Wild suddenly asked, eyes fixed on a cluster of stars just over the horizon. 

"Pardon?" 

"Her friends. You said that she lived a long, long time ago and woke up in a totally different world. Does she ever talk about her friends or family? I'm sure that there's a lot of people that she misses, now that she's awake." 

A cloud wrapped itself around the moon, and an eerie shadow fell over the group. Hyrule grew quiet. 

"Oh. No, no I haven't asked her. It never crossed my mind. And she never offered to share." 

A fresh sheet of moonlight fell on them as the clouds rolled away. Wild nodded thoughtfully, his arm still around Hyrule's shoulder, and lost himself in the star speckled scene above. Hyrule tried to start up the conversation a few more times, but Wild either replied with answers too short to foster a conversation or simply forgot to reply. Neither of them were bothered by it, though, and as the sound of crashing waves and rustling sand grew louder, their silence melted from expectant to companionable. 

"We're here," Warriors announced, his strong voice carrying crisply across the coastline. Sand crunched against leather soles and conversation lowered to a whisper as the captain continued. "It's too late for us to make rafts and set off for West Hyrule, so that will have to wait for tomorrow. Those of you who know how to fish, please accompany Twilight, Time, and Wind. I'll give you fishermen a half hour to haul in a good catch -- if you don't feel like you'll have enough fish for everyone by then, I'll have Wild make everyone some salad." 

A groan rumbled through the group. Wild flinched out of his thoughtful stupor and flashed everyone a devious smile. 

"What, you guys don't like my salad?" 

The guardsmen stammered as the other Links laughed. Wild chuckled. 

"It's okay, guys,” Wild said, clapping a few of the nervous guardsmen on the back. “No need to apologize. I think some meat will do everyone some good." 

"That's a fact," Warriors asserted, his smile and pauldron glittering with a confident light. "Anyway, I want everyone else to get started with setting up camp. If we're quick, we should all be able to eat and sleep within the next hour." 

With those words, the group shifted into action. Wild started a campfire as Four, Sky, Warriors, and a few of the guards set up tents and unfurled bed rolls. Wind hustled over to invite Hyrule to join Twilight, Time, and the rest of the guardsmen on their impromptu fishing venture. Even after explaining that he knew next to nothing about the sport, the traveler found himself pushed to the far end of the coast with a fishing rod pressed into his palm. 

Only one of the heroes was left. After a moment of deliberation, Wild called the straggler over, putting on his best obnoxious-but-harmless-amnesiac brand smile. 

"Hey, Legend! Can you tend the fire for a moment? It's not catching too well. Oh, and I'm going to go over to Twilight and the other guys in just a minute and see if they've caught anything -- I gotta know if I need to get started on making food or wait for them to miraculously catch enough fish for all of us." 

Legend stood still for a moment, then nodded vaguely as he registered Wild's words. Drag marks dug themselves into the sand as Legend shuffled over and took a seat by the fire. He stoked it with a small branch Wild handed to him, but the champion made no motion to leave. 

A hot shock of guilt burned through Wild as he placed a hand on Legend's shoulder and nearly made the man jump out of his skin. 

"A bit jumpy today, aren't we?" 

Legend gave Wild an unreadable look. The champion immediately regretted his comment. 

  
  


"Uh, sorry. That was dumb of me to say. I didn't mean to scare you or anything, but I did want to ask you something. Do you, uh, do you have a minute?" 

The tension in Legend's shoulder eased. "Sure, go ahead. And don't be sorry, it's alright. I am a bit jumpier than normal, haha." 

"Yeah. Hey man, I know I asked this earlier, but are you okay? You seem really off. Is something stressing you out?" 

"..." 

_ "If there's something you want to talk about with Hyrule -- or anyone else, for that matter -- ask directly." _

"Is it something to do with Hyrule?" 

If the statement had triggered anything within Legend, there was no indication of it. Silence hung between them like molasses; it trickled between Wild's fingers and lodged itself in his throat and stung his eyes with an expectant sweetness. The champion swallowed uneasily. Four, who had been helping a few guardsmen drive tent stakes into the ground a few paces from the campfire, caught a whiff of the tension in the air. He tossed Wild an understanding look and gently corralled the guards away, saying something about how it would be a good idea for all of them to go help Time and the others with their fishing. 

_ Thank Hylia for that guy. _

"He shouldn't have healed me," Legend suddenly responded. 

"Wait, what?" 

The fire flickered weakly. Legend stoked it once again, but the flames only let out an ashy cough before returning to a smoulder. "Hyrule. He healed me. He shouldn't have."

"Wait, why not? What are you talking about?"

Legend's cheek folded inward, and Wild realized he was chewing on it. He suppressed the urge to tell Legend to stop doing that -- that was more of Twilight or Sky's thing, anyway -- and wrung his hands together. A few moments of molasses-thick silence passed before Wild garnered the courage to speak up again. 

"Listen dude, I know that you feel partially responsible for Hyrule suddenly disappearing, especially after everything that happened with Warriors, but it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. You don't need to carry the whole world on your back, you know? I know that you might not be very happy with yourself and who you are right now, but just so you know, I think you're pretty awesome." 

Legend's eyes shimmered faintly at the compliment, but he said nothing in the way of acceptance or denial. Wild wrung his hands together so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

"It's not that," Legend finally said. 

"Uh, may you please elaborate?"

The fire sputtered. Legend rubbed his neck. 

"I'm not the one who needed healing," the veteran whispered. His voice was husky and distant, but an eerie fierceness burned in his eyes. He turned to face Wild. The champion tried not to recoil from the intensity in his gaze. "Listen. Warriors isn't doing well. Not at all. I'm really worried about him." 

Wild's eyebrows shot into his hairline. That...certainly hadn't been the answer he was expecting. 

"Oh! Warriors, huh?" 

Wild let his gaze trail across the beach to where Warriors stood. The champion had his back turned to both Legend and Wild, but even from here, the tension in his back was evident. Something hot and uncomfortable burned in Wild's stomach. 

_ How did I not notice this? _

Wild let his gaze remain on Warriors for a few more seconds before turning back to Legend. 

"It's not your fault, if that's what you're thinking. That whole deal with Warriors accusing you of..uh...hurting Hyrule...yeah, that wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself." 

Legend scoffed. "You shouldn't have so much faith in me." 

A flash of irritation buzzed beneath Wild's skin. He understood why Legend was being a bit hard on himself, he really did, but why did he have to be so infuriatingly secretive about his worries? That whole thing between him and Warriors was a misunderstanding -- surely he understood that? 

"Listen, Legend, I know things are really weird between you and Warriors right now, but it's not your fault. The stress of this all -- it's made us do crazy things. But we'll heal, right? It's not your job to fix things for everyone--"

"Isn't that what you're trying to do right now?"

Wild clamped his mouth shut. The tip of his tongue caught between his teeth and instantly went numb. 

"I recognize that feeling, Wild. You can't fix things if you don't understand what's going on. Believe me, I've tried."

Moonlight flickered overhead. A salty flush of air skittered over the beach, kicking dust into the air and smothering the pathetic campfire. 

Wild looked at Legend, and noticed for the first time the sad creases in his face, the heaviness in his shoulders, and the nauseating, desperate regret in his eyes. 

This man had been fighting a war Wild knew nothing about. 

The champion's heart burned in response to the fierce protectiveness in his friend's eyes, and a confession he didn't even know he wanted to make tumbled from his mouth.

"You're a good man, Legend," Wild whispered. 

Legend's entire body flinched. 

"Don't say that."

"Legend, I--" 

"Didn't you want to go check on the guys? Why don't you go and do that? I'll watch the fire while you're gone."

Wild bit his lip. Legend gave him a hard look, and Wild stood up with no small amount of light-hearted rambling. Sand groaned and crunched beneath his boots as he hurried across the seashore. Little crabs side-shuffled back into the waves as he approached, and a few strands of seaweed caught in the buckles of his shoes. The sound of the not-so-distant fishermen grew louder; Wild could pick out Twilight's low-toned humming, Wind's eager exclamations, and the occasional curse of a guardsman who had lost his catch. 

Time was the first to notice his approach. An uncharacteristically easy smile sat on his face. He waved Wild over with a hand wrinkle and puckered from the salty water. 

"We'll be back in just a moment, if that's what you were here to ask. We caught enough for everyone, I think. Maybe even a little more than that." 

To supplement his point, the eldest hero pointed to a small alcove of rocks where a small mountain of fish laid. Twilight and Hyrule crouched beneath, busying themselves with cleaning and gutting the catch, while Wind and the other guards were clearly having the time of their lives. True to his nature, the little sailor had taught them all another one of his famous sea shanties, and the entire entourage of fishermen were bobbing their heads to the off-tune music. Wild smiled in spite of himself. 

"Do you guys need help bringing anything back to camp?"

Time shook his head. "We're good. We can start moving now, if you wanted to get started on cooking."

_ "If you don't feel like you have the words to speak with him, you could always ask someone who does." _

"That would be great,” Wild replied. 

The champion wanted to slap himself on the forehead. No! That wasn't what he had wanted to say! He glanced back to camp. Warriors had taken a seat on his bedroll and seemed to be drawing something on his sketchpad. Legend was dutifully stoking the fire to something above a dull smoulder. Muscles around Wild's chest constricted, and a fuzzy flush of adrenaline pumped through his veins. 

_ I need to do something. _

Bouncing anxiously from one foot to another -- darn it, hadn't Zelda taught him to kick that habit already? -- Wild turned to Time. The latter had already returned his focus to the other fishermen and was presently relaying the champion's instructions to them. Wild waited until there was a lull in his dialogue, then tapped him on the shoulder. Time grunted in surprise as he turned around; he had obviously expected Wild to have made his way back to camp at this point. 

"Time, there's something wrong." 

The smile on Time's face disappeared. 

"Who's hurt?" 

"No! No, no not like that. But...man, just look." Wild was about to point to Warriors, but when he realized the captain's eyes were firmly focused on him, he moved his pointer finger slightly to the left. 

"Legend?" Time wondered aloud, crossing his arms as he did. "Is he alright?" 

"Yes, I mean, physically, yeah, I think so. But there's something off with him. I'm not sure...I think this whole thing might have broken him a little bit." 

Time glanced at him, eye shining cautiously in the dark. His silence prompted Wild to elaborate.

"I'm really worried about him. He seems to be blaming himself for Hyrule's disappearance and for Warriors' stress. And when I told him that it was all good and that nothing was wrong, he ignored me. He's just...I don't know..."

Time said nothing, then turned to face Wild. A titanium-blue protectiveness shone in his eye. Wild swallowed thickly. Maybe it would have been a better idea to ask Sky. 

"Thank you for letting me know," Time said, his voice barely audible over the mumbling waves. "I'll speak to him tomorrow." 

Wild grabbed the cuff of Time's sleeve before the older hero could walk off. The champion stammered for a moment, not sure why he was clinging to Time and certainly not sure how to fill the silence, but found the words he needed slowly rising to his tongue. 

"Please, Time...be gentle. He's...he's really upset right now. I know that you're not a big fan of these, I dunno, more emotional things, so if you would prefer that Sky talk to him instead I could ask. I don't want to place any unnecessary pressure on you." 

Some foreign emotion flickered across Time's face. Muscles clenched and unclenched in a heartbeat, and a strange vulnerability shuddered beneath. 

Was that pain? 

Wild shook away the thought, and, judging from the sudden tightness in Time's expression, so had the older hero. 

"I understand," Time said. "And I'll be more than honored to speak with Legend. Please don't worry. I might not seem like the most sympathetic person, but I've felt my fair share of emotions in the past. And anyway, it looks like you lads have made me the de-facto leader of this little group. What kind of leader would I be if I didn't take care of my men?" 

Wild tried to smile. So did Time. Another moment of expectant-but-not silence hung between them before Time gestured for the guardsmen to bring in the fish. Wild watched silently as fishing rods were reeled in and fish were stacked on top of outstretched arms. Hyrule gave him a friendly grin as he walked back to camp, arms laden with fish and ears filled with Wind's friendly chattering. Wild returned the smile, even tossing in a little wink despite the cold air, but it sloughed off his face as soon as Hyrule turned his back to him. The sound of conversation grew quiet. The waves grew louder. Wild tucked his cold fingers under his armpits and exhaled sharply, watching his breath billow into the air. 

Waves beat against the beach. Sand shuffled underneath. The skin of his lips tightened from the salty air, but he made no move to lick them clean.

Clouds covered the moon once again, and the world was dark.

_ "It's not your job to fix things for everyone--" _

_ "Isn't that what you're trying to do right now?" _

Half of him wished he could take Legend’s advice. The other half knew he couldn't live with himself if he did. 

Only the sea, stars, and seashells were witness to the champion's shame. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*-4][*5]

Sunlight returned shyly the next morning, strangely devoid of its characteristic bombast. Instead, it filtered slowly through the thick, fluffy clouds above, bringing with it a muted selection of pastel pinks, purples, and blues. 

The sea woke up with the sky. Soft, sleepy colors swam on the surface of the waters as the sun rose. A faint coat of pink, a heartbeat of blue, a streak of purple and a dash of white drifted like fish on top of the waves. Sunlight blanketed the slowly-rousing camp of heroes and guardsmen and seeped into their pores. Lip corners were pulled upwards by the sun's embrace, turning the usual grimace of the half-asleep men into little smiles. 

Everyone woke up slowly, unwilling to fully open their eyes and cross the border into the land of the awake. Sand was brushed off numb limbs. Tents were slowly put away and bedrolls were groggily folded as eggs crackled over the fire. Friendly, meaningless conversation unique to those kinds of lazy mornings filled the air. Birds flitted above as fish darted through the seas, and butterflies with wide, white wings flickered above the sand. 

"It's a beautiful morning," Warriors observed. 

Wild nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the warm sky. It looked like a scene out of a child's storybook; clouds swollen with creamy pastels floated overhead, and Wild had to stifle the urge to reach out and let the sunlight filter through his fingers. The champion turned back to the eggs hissing over the fire, flipping them over in the makeshift pan before the edges turned from brown to black. If the sunlight wasn't enough to wake everyone up, the smell of breakfast certainly was. One by one, familiar heads popped out of tents. It looked like nearly everyone was awake now. Guards and heroes milled around the campground and chatted cheerfully with each other as they dug into their breakfast. The occasional word of thanks was tossed Wild's way, and, as always, the champion winked and whistled them away. Only Legend had yet to show his face. 

Wild scratched the back of his neck and ignored the cold, sharp feeling in his ribcage. 

Time would be able to handle it. 

Something cold settled onto his bones. Wild leaned closer to the fire, but the feeling didn't go away. Memories of all the times Time had replied to him with clipped words or advice with more logic than emotion flickered to the front of his mind. Time was their leader, sure, and an amazing one too. Wild had never met someone with so much tactical genius and interpersonal awareness, besides Warriors, perhaps, but there was a big difference between being the group mentor and the group therapist. 

Wild's eyes drifted to Sky, who was currently brushing Wind's hair and telling him sickeningly sweet stories about his dear Sun. The sleepy hero chuckled each time the younger boy gagged at the pet names and romantic overtones. Their laughter carried through the thin air. A few guards turned to the source of the noise and smiled at the affectionate display.

Wild forced himself to focus back on the food. 

Had he made a mistake? 

Well, it wouldn't have been the first time. The champion chuckled dryly to himself and turned the eggs over once again. 

"Those eggs telling you funny jokes, Champion?"

Wild's eyes snapped to Warriors, who hadn't moved from his earlier position at his side. 

"Just lost in thought. You know how it is." 

A butterfly darted overhead. Warriors let out a curt laugh. 

"Sure do. Say, do you think we'll have time for a portrait?" 

Wild furrowed his eyebrows. 

"A portrait? We can just take a picture with my Sheikah Slate." 

Frankly, they already had. The amount of pictures they had taken upon Hyrule's return was something that was very nearly obscene. Wild still hadn't been able to go through all the pictures and filter out the good ones from the bad. 

"Yes, yes, I know we can take pictures," Warriors began, "but drawings are something different. I want to make a drawing with all of us by the seaside. The sunrise is very beautiful today, and I think it might be good practice for me and a good memory for all of us. It'll be a pretty picture, don't you think?" 

Wild nodded eagerly. Whatever he had been expecting the captain to suggest, it certainly hadn't been this. He giggled in excitement at the prospect of seeing Warriors' highly-classified artwork, and being a subject within it, no less! The only other Links who had ever really been privy to the captain's drawings were Four and Sky, the former because he was the captain's drawing partner, the latter because he, in Warriors' own words, "had the least judgemental aura". 

"I'll get set up," Warriors said, jostling the sketchpad under his arm to punctuate the statement. "Can you make an announcement and round up the other heroes? I want to try and get a sketch down before we set off; I'll do the coloring later." 

Wild chuckled and nodded as Warriors walked off. He shuffled around the eggs cooking over the fire for good measure before standing up and clapping his hands. 

"Sky, Four, Wind, Time, Twilight, Hyrule, and Legend! Listen up, please!" 

The exhortation was repeated three more times until seven pairs of curious (and slightly sleepy) eyes focused on him. 

"Warriors is going to draw a little group photo of us after breakfast. When you finish your food please head over to him and get situated. Any questions?" 

A murmur of surprise rumbled through the group. Twilight and Time smiled quietly to themselves as Wind let out an exuberant whoop. Sky's eyebrows flickered upwards in muted surprise as Four snickered, mumbling approvingly about the captain finally getting over his shyness. Wild scratched the back of his neck when he noticed the uneasiness on Legend and Hyrule's faces. 

"Wait," Hyrule called out, "aren't we supposed to get started on making the rafts? We want to get to the palace as soon as we can, so we should try and get started on crossing the sea before us as quickly as possible." 

"Don't worry about it!" one of the guards piped up, a few small flecks of egg sticking to his beard as he tightened the buckles on his boots. "You guys enjoy yourselves. We'll get started on the raft. We'll be done with the rafts around the time the portrait is finished." 

Wind aggressively verbalized his gratitude, with Sky and Wild joining in a moment later. The guards blushed and waved away the compliments, saying something about it being the only polite thing they could do to thank the heroes for everything they've done so far. Swords and axes were polished and carried into the woods as thick ropes were unspooled and draped around waists. The squeak of new leather and the clatter of armor grew faint as the guards made their way into the nearby woods. 

In a matter of minutes, breakfast was eaten and camp was cleaned up. Wild was the last one to join everyone else by the seashore, brushing off ash and sand from the seat of his pants, and awkwardly inserted himself in the portrait-ready formation of the other Links. Warriors' makeshift easel sunk into the sand a few paces off. An assortment of colors, pencils, and paints were placed on the sand beside it, and Wild had to stifle an eager grin. 

This was going to be great. 

"Listen up, everyone," Warriors said, draping his scarf over one arm and twirling a pencil in the hand of another, "I'm going to need you all to get into somewhat comfortable positions. I want Twilight and Time to stand in the back -- Wild, you're between them -- and Sky, Four, Wind, Hyrule, and Legend to all sit in front of them. Yes, yes that's great. Wind, please try not to kick up too much sand. Twilight, can you take off your hood? Wonderful, thank you. Hmmm. That doesn't look quite right. Sky, I want you in the back row with Twilight. Don't give me that look -- you won't die if you have to stand up for half an hour. Hyrule, I want you to sit in the middle of the front row. To commemorate your return, of course. No, you look fine, don't worry." 

Small clouds of sand puffed into the air as the Links shuffled around. Warriors rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he analyzed the new formation. Everything looked good, except...

"Legend, I want you to sit next to Hyrule. It doesn't matter what side, just sit next to him, please. Don't take too long." 

The veteran blanched at the instruction. Warriors had to repeat it twice more before Legend listened and shuffled over from his far spot on the beach. Hyrule's cheerful expression didn't falter with the veteran's approach, and Warriors let out a silent sigh of relief. 

The Links chatted quietly as Warriors got to work, eyebrows furrowed as he brought pencil to paper. Time, Twilight, and Sky talked about domestic things that only older men seemed to have any interest in these days. Wind painted shapes into the sand with his little finger. Four decorated them with shells and strips of seaweed, entertaining the sailor with stories he made off the top of his head. Wild watched them in silence, content to drink up the sounds of their happiness as a sugary breeze rustled overhead. 

Only Legend and Hyrule said nothing, sitting awkwardly next to each other with white knuckles buried into their laps. 

Time passed slowly, but Warriors worked quickly. It seemed like barely ten minutes had passed before Warriors declared that the preliminary sketch was finished and that the others could disperse. The group filtered out without much fuss, most of them still enraptured in the discussions that had begun as they stood in place for the portrait. Twilight, Time and Sky walked off together and were quickly followed by Four and Wind. Legend hurried off into the seaside woods, saying that he would call the guardsmen back, and took special care to avoid Time's purposeful gaze. Wild and Warriors watched Hyrule as the traveler's gaze lingered on the veteran. The expression on his face was unreadable, thoughtful, if anything. Hyrule’s expression softened as he approached the captain and champion. 

"Thank you for breakfast today," Hyrule said, tapping Wild on the shoulder. 

"Oh, it was no problem. Did you like the eggs? I was going to make you crepes, but I don't have the chocolate syrup you like on hand." 

Hyrule shook his head -- at what, exactly, it wasn't clear -- and scratched the back of his neck. "The eggs were great. And no need to do anything special for me now that I'm back." His focus shifted to Warriors, who was cleaning up his art supplies. "Warriors, I also wanted to thank you for the portrait. It's a great idea; I can't wait to see the finished thing.”

Warriors winked at Hyrule as he stood up. "Whether I'll show the finished piece to you all depends on how well it comes out. The sketch looks good but Hylia knows I can't color, at least not in a way that'll do the sunrise any good, so it's a gamble I think." 

Hyrule smiled and, after giving Warriors a few words of encouragement, made his way back to camp. Warriors and Wild watched him go, but neither said anything about the tension in their brother's muscles. 

A few moments of silence passed before Wild gently poked Warriors in the shoulder and spoke up.

"You said you already got the sketch down? That was fast. How do you draw so quickly?" 

Warriors furrowed his eyebrows as he put away the last of his pencils and pens. He wiped his already-clean hands on his pants and turned to face Wild. 

"What are you talking about? It took me nearly half an hour just to get a sketch down." 

Wild's eyebrows flickered upwards. It certainly hadn't felt like just half an hour...

He cast a glance up at the sky, which was still fluffy and pink with pastel colors. The sun hung sleepily over the horizon as if it was still deciding whether it wanted to rise or not. Even though it must have been at least an hour since dawn, the whole world was covered in the sleepy heartbeat of a world still awakening. 

"I must have lost track of the time, then," Wild muttered. There was a shout and rustle of activity on the far end of the beach, where Four, Twilight, and Legend were helping everyone mount their things on the newly-created rafts, and Wild let out a small laugh at the sight. "I mean, it's such a beautiful day today. Time feels like it's passing much slower than it really is." 

"I agree. I think today will be a wonderful one, or at least better than the ones from the past few weeks." 

They both laughed at that statement. Neither of them commented on how forced it sounded. 

"Anyways, Warriors, can I see how the drawing came out?" 

"Absolutely not." 

Wild pushed out his lower lip and clasped his hands under his chin. "Aww, come on. Please? You're a wonderful artist! You have nothing to hide! And anyway, I didn't stand there and listen to the old man talk about different types of horseshoes for half an hour to not see the final product." 

Warriors brushed a few golden strands of hair out of his eyes and placed a hand on his hip. The same impervious confidence Wild had grown to admire oozed off of him, and for a moment, Wild wondered if Legend had been delirious yesterday night. Not a thing looked wrong with the captain. 

"This isn't anywhere close to the final product," Warriors said, sniffing in disdain as he glanced at his sketch. 

"Then you shouldn't have a problem showing it to me! Sketches aren't meant to be perfect, you know? I'm not going to make fun of you or anything." 

"I know," Warriors placated, his voice higher than before, "but you're not seeing this." 

Wild groaned and crossed his arms. 

"C'mon, why not?"

"I already know what you're going to say,” Warriors retorted. 

With another grunt, Wild leaned back and crossed his arms even tighter. The pointed tips of his ears flickered in irritation and he reiterated his earlier point. 

"Dude, I already told you, I'm not going to make fun of you! I can barely draw a straight line -- I'm in no position to judge your work. And even if I were somehow better than you, I already know how hard it is to share things you've worked hard on. I wouldn’t mock your hard work. What do you take me for, some sort of snobby art critic?" 

"Wild, I already said that I'm not worried you'll make fun of me. It's something else." 

"Ugh, why do all of you have to be so cryptic these days? Can't you just say what you mean?" 

"Okay, listen, I'm not trying to be cryptic--"

"If you don't want me to look because you're insecure then that's fine! But you just said that wasn’t it, so what’s the problem?” 

“Nothing, just...don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Warriors, I won’t push you if you’re uncomfortable, but all this secretive stuff, I can’t handle it!” Wild's voice dropped to an irritated whisper as he continued. "It's like -- it's with you and Hyrule and Legend and sometimes even Time -- it's like I can't even talk to you guys anymore. I do my best to be clear about things that bother me and to let people know when I'm sorry or upset or anything, but you guys hide your emotions like it's some sort of embarrassing scar. It's like playing a guessing game whenever I want to talk to you all. Why? Why do you do things like this? No, don't answer that, I don't want anymore of that cryptic stuff." 

Wild turned heel and stalked off, arms crossed tight across his chest and face red with frustration. He could feel Warriors' gaze burning into his back and the weight of his unintended confession heating his ribcage, but he made no move to apologize or turn around. And to think all of this sprouted from a simple request to see Warriors' drawing...Wild's face colored with shame as he hurried off. 

"Wild, wait."

"No," Wild spat, surprising himself at the vehemence in his tone. "I don't have time for your well-meaning questions, because I need to go find a rock to sit and brood on while I think about the best way to hide all my emotions." 

"Wild--" 

"Go away, Warriors," Wild lamely insisted. He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulders, flinching again when he turned around and saw the hurt shining in Warriors' eyes. 

"I'm so sorry," the captain began. "I truly didn't mean to be cryptic or convoluted in my intentions. In all honesty, I'm just as confused about how I feel as you are." 

Wild relaxed, but his arms remained crossed. "It's okay. Sorry I got mad at you, and sorry that I demanded you change. That's, well, I shouldn't have done that. It's just...sometimes I just get upset at how stoic you guys are." 

"Stoic?" Warriors teased. "More like stupid." 

Wild burst into laughter, and, after a moment, Warriors did too. 

Pink clouds drifted overhead. Their laughter didn't sound as forced as before. 

"Anyway," Warriors said, his voice still loose with laughter, "I'm not comfortable talking about how I feel, yet, but I suppose I could start with showing you the picture." 

Wild's entire countenance illuminated, and his earlier irritation was forgotten "Holy Hylia, really? Show me! I promise I won't say a thing -- good or bad." 

The captain nodded and pulled the sketch pad out from under his arm. He leafed carefully through the pages and stopped at one at the far end of the book, shyly hovering his hand over the page before Wild pulled it away. 

Wild had to stifle a gasp. 

Beautiful, curling clouds framed the sky as stylized, geometric rocks embroidered the bottom half of the picture. The group stood together at the seashore, the tracks left by their boots impressed into the sand, with small circlets of seashells and seaweed strung about them like satin ribbons. Wild's eyes widened as he stared at the picture. He didn't even register when he plucked the sketchbook out of Warriors' hands to hold it closer to his own face. 

It took him nearly five minutes to register that something was off with the drawing. 

He noticed the little things first, like the absence of Time's signature eyebags or the strange lack of cuts across Twilight's knuckles. He nearly missed how Four had two earrings instead of the usual one -- matching, no less -- or how Wind's clothes actually fit him. Sky looked uncharacteristically alert, his face wide with a certain brand of excitement that seemed more fitting for the sailor than than the Skyloftian, and Wild's hair was impossibly smooth and flowy, devoid of the usual tangles and snarls and stray pieces of grass that were now a common sight. 

Wild's eyebrows tightened into a firm v when his eyes trailed to the middle of the picture. 

There sat Legend and Hyrule, side by side, their arms wrapped around the other's shoulders and their temples pressed together. Their faces were alight with smiles that looked like they were pulled from the sun itself, so startlingly vibrant that Wild winced. 

They looked...

Happy. 

_ "That's a wonderful drawing, Captain," Time had said, taking a seat next to Warriors. The captain waved the compliment away with the tip of his manicured fingers.  _

_ "Thank you, but it's really not that good." _

_ Time's eyebrows pressed together in a disbelieving v. "I disagree." _

_ "Look, the drawing looks nothing like the reference." _

_ Warriors gestured to the withered flower in front of them, then back to his drawing. Time shook his head. _

_ "Did you intend for it to be so?" _

_ "For it to be what?" _

_ "For the drawing to look like the reference?" _

_ "He's tryna fix it," Wild interjected. Steam hissed in the air as the champion doused the campfire with water and stirred the wet ashes. "The flower isn't pretty. So he's tryna fix it." _

"You're trying to fix them," Wild whispered. 

Warriors said nothing. The skin over his knuckles was taught and ivory, and the bones of his jaw stuck out against his skin. A heated, cryptic silence hung over them, drowning out the sound of Warriors’ confession. 

Only the sea, stars, seashells, and broken-hearted champion were witness to the captain's shame. 

  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*-5][*6]

Seafoam stained pink frothed against the sides of the raft, spilling into the woodgrains and reflecting the pastel sky above. The distant sound of the other guardsmen and Links carried on waves of air and water, their rafts bobbing in the distance like seashells sliding above sand. Strange creatures darted just underneath the water's surface as the raft’s cargo rubbed against Legend’s spine. He ran his knuckles over the healed tips of his fingers, marveling for the hundredth time over the baby-smoothness of his skin. 

"Veteran, are you doing alright?" 

Legend startled at the sound of Time's voice, relaxing when he remembered that, aside from the cargo, the older hero was the only other person on the same raft as him. He wasn't sure he would be able to handle the embarrassment of all the other Links watching him flinch and squeak every time the waters brushed too close to the edge of the raft, so it was certainly a saving grace that he had been allowed to ride on the cargo raft. 

Time repeated his question once again. The hard, burning blue of his eye didn't falter even when Legend answered his question in the affirmative. 

"I'm going to come and take a seat by you in just a moment. Make some space for me," Time said. The breeze bent his words backwards and nearly washed them away before they could reach Legend's ears, but the veteran grumbled in compliance anyway. 

The older hero gave the raft a once over to make sure everything was sailing smoothly before walking over to the veteran. He pushed aside Wild's knapsack and a small stack of guard shields before sitting down. 

"Don't get too close to me," Legend warned. The raft bobbed, and Legend jammed his thumb into the pressure point on the opposite wrist. "I might barf all over you." 

Time acknowledged Legend's request by shuffling slightly to the right. He was still too close for comfort, but Legend said nothing. 

"How have things been with you lately?" Time asked, the hard shine in his eyes growing even darker. "Some of the others noticed that you've been acting off for a few days now. Is there a reason for that?" 

Mortar cooled around Legend's heart. He withdrew from Time's words both figuratively and literally, scooting to the side and gazing blankly at the clouds above. His casual insistence that he was fine did little to disturb the look on Time's face. 

"I'm fine, seriously. That whole thing with Warriors really did mess me up a bit, but aside from that, I'm okay. I'm really glad that Hyrule is back." 

"You don't seem to be." 

Legend swallowed the hot ball of anger rising in his throat. "Who says?" 

"Neither of you seem comfortable being around each other. I don't think I've even seen you two make eye contact since he returned. What's wrong?" 

Legend absently ran his tongue over his lips. His heart beat erratically beneath his ribcage at the prospect of redemption. 

He could confess now. He could confess now, under the pink skies and purple seas, and be freed from the golden voice that whispered into his ear at night and the mirror whose shape was engraven into each of his thoughts. 

All it would take would be one sentence. A flash of the mirror, maybe, or a confession of the things he knew but shouldn't. 

It would be so easy. 

"Nothing's wrong," Legend heard himself say, distant and wet as if he was listening to someone talk from the bottom of the sea. "I'm just out of it. I hurt myself really badly on the night that Warriors accused me of...uh...killing Hyrule. I didn't mean it, of course! Don't look at me that way. I think it was just the adrenaline -- I didn't even feel it. But I messed myself up really bad and hid from you guys for most of the day afterward, I mean, I actually was feeling really sick, but I didn't want any more pity from anyone and I didn't want to draw any attention to myself." 

He took a moment to inhale through his teeth, the taste of the sea and lies mixed with truth stinging his gums. 

"Anyway, when Hyrule came back, he healed my wounds. I didn't even recognize him until after he had done it, and I just...I don't know...I didn't know what to say to him. It hurt to look at him. It was as if he was expecting something from me; something I couldn’t give him. I don’t know. Part of me just..." 

The words trailed off. Time leaned in, face creased in focus and concern. 

"I just...didn't know what to do around him. All I knew was that I didn't deserve it. The healing. Hyrule -- he shouldn't have healed me. I deserved those bruises and burns. All of them. And the stuff Warriors told me really messed with me. It made me think. A lot. I didn't want to be around anyone. I knew that he -- Warriors I mean -- probably feels as screwed-up as I do right now, so I just focused all my worry on him. I don't know why. That made things even worse. I mean, I can only worry about one person at a time, and everything is just so weird and I feel like...Hylia I don't know...like I'm running out of emotions or something." 

Legend turned to face Time. The older hero didn't return his gaze, his eyes fixed on a little star hanging just above the horizon. The beating of water against wood and wind against waves melted into white noise when Time spoke. 

"I think I understand." 

The beating in Legend's chest grew acidic. He had doused his words in three different flavors of deception, mixed them with truths and half-meanings and cauterized the little cuts of his emotions until all that was left was the ashy smell of logic. He had lied like a criminal at confession, and yet Time stared at him with the conviction of a priest who knew the truth. 

Did he? 

Legend didn't realize that both of his hands had curled into fists until Time pressed something against his knuckles. 

"Here," Time said, extending a slip of paper and a pencil nub to him. "Hold this for me." 

Legend did as instructed. The paper was cheap and thin, the kind used for bakery store receipts and children's notebooks, and the pencil was only a little larger than his thumb’s nail. Somehow, they both felt incredibly heavy. 

"I want you to write a list of all the people you trust on that little slip of paper," Time instructed. "I'll give you five minutes. You can use one of the shields as a writing surface if you need to. Let me know when you're done." 

_ What on earth? _

Legend was on the verge of vocalizing his confusion when Time stood up and walked to the other edge of the raft. The raft tilted. Legend squeaked, but the other hero made no move to comfort him. 

The pencil and paper looked impossibly small in his hands. 

Perhaps this was just a game. He could play along, and if things got more serious, he could always put together a lie-and-truth cocktail and buy himself more time. 

With the shield propped between his knees and the paper pressed to its smooth surface, Legend began to write. 

_ \- Uncle Alfon  _

_ \- Princess Zelda  _

_ \- Ravio (in things not related to finances)  _

_ \- Twilight  _

_ \- Time  _

_ \- Sky  _

_ \- Wild  _

_ \- Wind  _

_ \- Four  _

\- Warriors (maybe not right now, but I'm sure things will be okay between us in the future) 

... 

The pencil halted. A whisper of a thought drifted through Legend's mind, and he relaxed. 

... 

... 

... 

_ \- Hyrule  _

"I'm done," Legend murmured. He repeated himself when he realized the ocean breeze was louder than his voice, and Time gave a distant nod as he walked back. Wood creaked as the older hero took a seat beside Legend. 

"May I please see it?" 

Legend all but tossed the paper Time's way. The paper creased beneath Time's fingers as the hero held it close to his face, slowly puzzling out the names Legend had written from what little he knew of the veteran's Hylian. If he noticed the uneasiness the last name had been written with, he didn't comment. 

"You're missing someone," Time said at last. 

"I am not. That's the list." 

"Hmmm. Where's your name?" 

"I..." 

Time handed the paper back. Legend took it, eyes distant as he tried to meet and avoid the former's gaze at the same time. 

"Do you trust yourself, Legend?" 

There was no need for the veteran to answer. 

"Perhaps that might explain some of the distress you're feeling. If you're unable to trust yourself, all the relationships you have will eventually begin to decay. After all, if you don't trust yourself, how can you trust people that do?" 

"I..." 

"I don't mean to preach at you or make you feel ashamed. I'm just offering a perspective on your situation that you might not have considered. You’re under no obligation to acknowledge it. But it seems to me that your position is much simpler than you're making it out to be -- Warriors made you doubt yourself to a level you may never had before, and that's sinking deep into your relationships with the people you care about the most. You know Hyrule loves you. The boy would tear out his own heart if it meant keeping you safe, and perhaps it's that closeness that makes it so hard for you to speak with each other." 

Legend said nothing. He pressed his thumb further into the pressure point in his arm, wondering for a second if the tactic worked against emotional nausea as much as it did the physical sort. 

"I'll leave you alone, now," Time said as he stood up for the second time. "Hopefully I gave you something to think about. And don't think I didn't notice my own name on that list -- if you ever have something that you want to talk about, you can always come to me. I'm here to protect you all, you know." 

The rawness in Time's last statement made Legend flinch. He nodded absently, waiting for the sound of Time's footsteps on the raft to fade away, and turned his eyes to the list in his palm. 

Time's words stuck like a knife between the bones of his chest. Something hot trickled down his face as a revelation dawned. 

His own soul had grown revolting to him. 

Could he live like that? Waking up in the morning and listening to the breathing of a man now unbearable to him? Hyrule had healed the wounds on his arms and face, but something far more important still laid broken in a thousand pieces. He bowed his head and let the wind ruffle his hair. 

He had dug a hole for himself, fallen in, and shattered all the bones in his legs. There was nowhere left for him to go and nothing of his own left to fight for. He might as well keep fighting for the things that still had a chance to be put together. The gold and platinum smell of the mirror filled his chest, and the taste of silk thread on his tongue nearly choked him. 

The Hero of Legend floated above the cotton candy sea, heart-broken and silent, and tried not to drown in his regret. 

No one was witness to his shame. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go: the longest TMSKoL chapter to date. I hope you guys enjoyed, and I really hope it wasn't too long or too much of a pain to read. Thank you all so much for your continued support and enthusiasm for this story! It truly means so much to me. 
> 
> If you have any questions or thoughts, please don't be afraid to leave a comment! I always make sure to answer, even if it takes me a little bit of time. Thank you once again for reading, and I hope you'll enjoy the chapters to come!!


	16. The Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is tall and beautiful and made of crimson. 
> 
> She is crumbling from the outside -- only two people know. 
> 
> And she is crumbling from the inside -- only one person knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:) 
> 
> So if you're reading this in the present day, aka February 20th, 2021, you would have noticed that I uploaded two chapters on the same day. Is this a mistake? No! I've wanted to do a double upload for some time now, and I've finally gotten the opportunity to do so! Surprise! I hope you guys enjoy. :D 
> 
> This chapter is a late birthday gift to my wonderful friend Mae! She's also an exceptional artist (PLEASE check her instagram over at @m_aeee_!!! She has an absolutely stunning way with colors, and she's also a wonderful person to be around). Mae, if you're reading this right now, I just wanted you to know that I am so glad you're my friend and that I really hope you'll enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Alright. Here are the Recommended Vibes for this chapter! 
> 
> [*1] Irreversible Sadness: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLhR2M7rw3Q&ab_channel=zettairyouiki 
> 
> [*2] Temple of Time - BoTW Extended: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3slBKgEx_Y&ab_channel=MusicalToasters 
> 
> [*3] Undertale OST - Home Extended: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsoLYWTzqSY&ab_channel=EluTran 
> 
> [*4] Old Town - Extended: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGFgH7wabb4&ab_channel=LordBlackNar 
> 
> [*5] Zelda’s Lullaby - Skyward Sword Extended: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyQjeu3aEwg&ab_channel=EllyPlaysGames 
> 
> There's no extended version of the first song, so if you would don't want to loop it yourself, try and use this link. Hopefully it'll work! (https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=aLhR2M7rw3Q&ab_channel=zettairyouiki)

[*1]

Sunbeams spilled through gaps in the clouds. Lizards scrambled along the sodden ground and chased after shifting patches of light. Butterflies flitted through the air like thumb-sized doves, their wings dangerously wet with morning dew.

Morning had reached its peak, but the mist covering the North Palace swallowed up its heat and left only pale sunshine. The castle walls rose from the ground like a stone angel's hand: cool, grey, speckled with shadows and laced with vines. Little morning glories that crawled between the stones like bright thread rested their heads against grey and searched for yellow. Long blades of grass rustled beneath their feet. Thin, pinkish light filtered from above, cut in half by the buttresses and scattered by the sleeping mist. 

Princess Zelda walked through the garden with Impa's hand in the crook of her arm, her black dress whispering a silk lullaby behind her. The nursemaid's touch anchored her to the ground yet made her embarrassed to walk along it; it was an acknowledgement of the relapse and the small, angry angels that festered in Zelda’s soul. She brushed back her bangs. She knew Impa had noticed how her fingers were, for the first time in nearly six months, coated with powder instead of ice, and yet she said nothing. The princess responded to Impa’s silence with one of her own. 

This was how they spoke: through silences, tense pauses between polite words, the tug of an arm and flick of a wrist. Intent was verbalized through fingers and flashes of intensity behind grey eyes. Words were for strangers now. 

Zelda inhaled slowly as Impa’s grip loosened. Her bones pressed against her corset. She tugged at the dress’ silk bust as if loosening the fabric there would make her breath come easier, and tugged her scarf up to the tip of her nose. She winced as her hot breath was blown back in her eyes. Perhaps it really would have been better to put on a pair of gloves, even if none of them were black. 

Morning dew trickled off the grass and darkened Zelda’s shoes. The ground underfoot turned hard as they approached the training grounds. After exchanging a few words with the guard posted in front of the amphitheatre, a gate was drawn aside and the two were ushered in. Zelda and Impa’s footsteps echoed off the stone breastbone of the amphitheatre as they descended the steps and neared the training grounds. A few straggling guardsmen waved and smiled at the pair as they hurried to their posts. Zelda only waved after they had turned away, muttering their names to herself like a schoolboy trying not to forget his times tables. 

A seat on the lowest stand had been reserved for the princess and her nursemaid; it was really nothing more than a small bench with a few blankets tossed over it and two cups -- one coffee, one tea --- balancing precariously on the stone armrest. Zelda and Impa took a seat as Captain Cira led the guards through their first few stretches of the day. They sipped coffee and milk and boredom as they watched the guardsmen run this way, then that, then drop to the ground and give the captain twenty, then pick up freezing weights and lug them across the field with their chins pressed to their chests and their faces coated in sweat. Impa observed with mild disinterest as she drank her coffee. She never doubted Captain Cira, and the man’s insistence that the princess and her nursemaid be there to supervise his first day on the job (“in case I do anything wrong,” he had said) seemed to only be another one of his characteristic fits of self-doubt. Yet Zelda, with her always-cold fingers curled around a hot cup of tea, watched the new head of the royal guard with narrowed eyes. Captain Cira was certainly making good on his promise to whip the castle guard into shape -- she could see new muscles popping through the training uniform of even the youngest, and the once-familiar sound of complaining, wheezing guards was gone. 

Captain Cira would never be able to replace Link, but he was an honorable man who meant what he said. Zelda could respect him and, maybe one day, rely on him too. 

The breath of thirty men and two women clouded into the air. Clouds parted, and liberated sunlight doused the bench Zelda and Impa sat on. The princess dipped her fingers into the light and shivered at its warmth. She realized with a start how strange she must have looked. There she sat on a stone bench, with her black dress, black shoes, black lipstick and a black mourning veil, with her white fingers stroking the sunlight. She pulled her hands away and buried them in her lap. 

Impa had already placed an order for the black gloves. The seamstress said they would be ready tomorrow, so Zelda only had to hide her ivory hands for one more day. 

Guardsmen filed away as their practice came to an end, hair dripping with sweat and faces pink with overexertion. Each of them waved and smiled at the princess. She waved in return, but smiled a little too late and a little too tightly for the worried looks on their faces to go away. Perhaps she was the only one honest enough to let her grief show on her face. It didn’t matter. Zelda colored with shame anyway, trying harder to pretend like everyone else that things were fine. 

Impa handed her empty cup and Zelda's untouched one to a guardsmen who had offered to take them. The nursemaid placed her glasses on the tip of her nose and turned to Zelda, eyes cool with boredom after supervising the guardsmen training. Zelda's eyes were focused on something distant and nonexistent. Impa had to tap her shoulder twice and repeat her question just as many times before the princess heard her. 

"Princess, would you like to go look at the roses?" 

Zelda's breath hitched at the suggestion. She wanted to shake her head no (she wanted to run back to the castle and wear every pair of gloves she could find and collapse onto the bed that had once been hers but now was only a pyre to bad memories), but her jaw stayed still. Impa repeated her question once more. Her tone was soft and understanding, goading, even, like a mother urging her children to eat vegetables. Zelda discredited the metaphor by slowly nodding her head and reluctantly following Impa to the rose garden. 

The sunlight lingered behind the two as they crept out of the amphitheatre. Impa made their destination known to a few of the guards, who hurriedly put on their shoes and trailed behind the pair. Footsteps pattered up and away from the amphitheatre and towards the quiet corners of the royal garden. Small animals skittered in the dust as Zelda and Impa approached and were thoroughly scared away by the noisy guards. A cool shadow fell over the group as the rose garden came into view, and the friendly chatter died away. 

The rose garden had never been a place for lighthearted talking. 

Black silk trailed along the ground as Impa took Zelda's hand and led her to the roses. None of the flowers were happy to see them. Brilliant white blossoms turned their heads away from prying eyes. Yellow roses ducked beneath sharp leaves, and fairy dust glinted quietly off the petals of flowers so purple they almost seemed black. A small orange rose with pink-tinged petals had caught the attention of the guards, and the cessation of their chatter felt more ominous than it had any right to be. Impa tightened her grip on Zelda's elbow. The princess didn't flinch. 

Zelda trailed her fingers above the thorn bushes. Her mind grew loud with the memories of the roses. Fragments of afternoons spent with Link. A moment of midnight with Impa and and the queen.The song the birds sang when the sun was late to rise. She grew distant first in spirit and then in body, gently extricating herself from Impa's grasp before walking off. 

"Princess, where are you going?" 

Zelda slowed down but didn't turn around. "The red roses. I want to check on them. I'll be back in a moment." 

Impa nodded, walking five paces behind the black train of the princess' dress. The roses that flanked them were pink, then purple, then yellow and orange and so white they might have been the ghosts of flowers that had withered in the winter. After a few more moments of rustling silk and empty footsteps, the bushes Zelda knew better than any other came into view. Her pace quickened. She found herself first shuffling forward, then running, body burning as she raked the bushes for a familiar sight. 

Nothing. Nothing was there. There were no roses on the bushes; no red to greet her. Zelda wiped a hand in front of her eyes, eyebrows creased in confusion as she took in the sight. They had been here yesterday. The roses. They had been here. She knew, because her fingers still stung from their thorns. Zelda leaned over the bushes and pushed her hands through the thorny bushes. No red roses sat beneath the branches. She fell back, hands stinging twice as loud as they had before, until her gaze fell to the ground. 

And there they laid. 

The crimson heads of roses that had grown too big and beautiful for their stems laid in the dirt. Zelda crouched before them and held the decapitated flowers in her hands. 

They were cold. 

Zelda's vision blurred. She inhaled the icy air through her teeth until her mind cleared. 

"We can plant them again," Impa said, her voice almost drowned out by the five pace distance between them. Zelda shook her head as she gathered the fallen roses to her bosom. 

"Maybe when Link comes back," Zelda whispered. 

It was the silence after the words that gave them meaning. Impa sighed and nodded in deference, helping the princess to her feet and beckoning to the guards. They made their way to the courtyard. Zelda trailed behind them, her arms full with dead roses and skin dribbling ruby pearls from where thorns had grazed her skin. 

There would be no more red roses in their garden. 

"I'm going to give these to him," Zelda said. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" Impa asked. The question had become a formality at this point, yet Zelda nodded her head. With the guards having retired to their usual posts, Zelda and Impa made their way to the middle of the courtyard. 

Her heartbeat slowed as a familiar shadow fell over her. Her eyes trailed to the sky. 

The statue of the Hero of Hyrule stared back. It was a huge thing, nearly three times heavier and twice as tall as Link himself, yet a familiar protective aura oozed off the polished bronze. His sword was thrust upward as if threatening to cut open the sky's underbelly, and his eyes shone with dark diamonds. Muscles pressed against his tunic. Hair frozen in a permanent breeze framed his face, one that was curiously devoid of the freckles and scars of its real life counterpart. Link had never indicated frustration with the statue's lack of flaws, opting instead to sputter and stammer about why there was no need for a statue that big or even a statue at all, but Zelda knew the truth about how he felt. 

She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and thought no more of the subject. 

“Princess, I’m going to be right here if you need me.” Impa said, waving from her spot on a nearby bench. Zelda waved back, then hoisted herself onto the statue’s pedestal and took a seat between bronze feet. Fireflies that had forgotten to go to bed drifted around the clearing. Zelda cringed from their knowing stares as she placed the decapitated flowers at the statue’s feet. 

Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth as she began to speak. 

“They were so pretty you know. The flowers. It’s a shame they had to fall like that. It’s a shame that they had to fall, and that there was no one to watch them.” 

Condensation trailed down the statue’s face and dripped off his chin. Zelda winced. 

“Sorry, I know you don’t like me talking about gloomy things. I didn’t mean to upset you. Maybe I’ll feel happier during lunch. The cook said he’s going to make marble cake for dessert. Isn’t that exciting? I’ll bring some for you, of course. But you’ll have to wash your hands before you eat it -- they must be so dirty and tired from always being carried up like that."

Her laughter sounded like sandpaper against glass. She swallowed the sound and the taste of the bad joke before continuing. 

"The queen bought me a lovely dress today. It came with a little bowtie that's much too big for me, but I think it would fit you perfectly. I'll make sure to wear it during lunch, and I’ll bring you the bowtie. You’ll have to wear it on your head, though, because it’s too small to go around your neck. Oh, did you hear? The queen is feeling much better today. She was able to walk around her room with no help, and even managed to preside over a few meetings in the throne room. I think she's getting better. I hope she is. Perhaps the goddesses took you in order to give us back the queen.” 

The statue looked confused. Zelda bit her tongue and picked up one of the rose heads. 

“Of course, this must be so confusing for you to hear. I never did get to tell you about the queen's illness. Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow. I think today is too pretty of a day to talk about this." 

Dandelion seeds floated through the air. Impa had taken out a small book and appeared to be busying herself with it, but there were no reading glasses on her nose. Zelda was both uncomfortable and relieved with the knowledge that her nursemaid was watching her. She fiddled with the rose in her hand, wincing in surprise when she found that she had been absent-mindedly picking off the petals. Shaking white fingers collected the petals scattered at Link’s feet and vainly tried to reassemble the flower. 

“Anyway,” Zelda continued, a tremor in her voice, “the cockatiel eggs hatched. The babies aren't very cute yet. But their voices are. They sit in the little cage in my bedroom. I hate keeping them in there, but I suppose it's for their own good. Hopefully they'll grow to be as good-natured as their mother, and then maybe I can let them fly about the room." 

Something dropped onto Zelda’s head. She looked up, eyes squinted against the sun, and saw that the condensation on the statue’s face had begun to trickle down in a heavy river. She started talking faster. Roses unwound beneath her fingers. Guards shouted in the distance. Impa exclaimed something unintelligible, but Zelda couldn’t turn around. Her heart beat through her fingers and turned white skin purple. She murmured faster. The mourning veil pressed against her lips with every inhale. The sound of footsteps behind her grew loud. 

“Princess?” 

The statue’s tears trickled down her hair. Zelda turned around, soul splintering with every tremor of her muscles.

Her eyes widened. Her breath stopped. Her thoughts grew silent and deafening as she took in the sight before her, and her fingers turned to ice.

“Link?” 

XXXXXXXX _half an hour ago_ XXXXXXXX 

[*-1][*2] 

The forest was loud with the sound of footsteps and talking men. Wild cracked another joke and sent a ripple of laughter through the group. Sky and Four picked at the sunburns on their cheeks. Hyrule lagged a few steps behind them, tapping the tip of his boots against the ground to alleviate the ache in his heels. Other heroes and guards repeated gestures similar to his as they tried to wipe away the soreness that came with three days of walking. Back muscles protested against the tug and rub of baldrics and shields. Blisters bubbled on ankles and palms. Any semblance of wanderlust had long departed from the group, and the one thought on everyone's mind was their impending arrival at the castle. 

Hyrule shifted his grip on the Link doll and hurried to reintegrate with the group. Their three days of traveling had exhausted everyone, but the prospect of a nice meal to eat and a warm place to sleep had a way of reviving their interest in continuing on. The traveler cast a glance to the sky above him and dragged his fingers through the mist. Only one place in his kingdom had an air this somber. 

"We're nearly there," Hyrule declared to the group. A chorus of exuberant cheers and excited babbling swelled in response as Hyrule continued. "I think we'll enter through the back gate so we don't disturb any guests or diplomats that may be boarding in the North Palace." 

The heroes nodded in agreement as the guards echoed the instructions to each other. Even though Hyrule rarely had anything of substance to say to the guards, they treated him with an almost embarrassing level of respect. Their admiration of Warriors he could understand -- he shared it, after all -- but Hyrule had never adjusted to the way they grew quiet whenever he spoke and echoed his words like canyon stones.

Uncomfortable thoughts rattled through his head. Hyrule squeezed the Link doll and relaxed when a flush of warmth buzzed upward from the fabric. 

"Hyrule!" 

The hero in question snapped out of his thoughts and turned towards Wind, who quickly identified himself as the source of the noise. He hurried over with a wide smile on his face and his finger pointed to the horizon. 

"Is that the castle?" 

Hyrule turned, glanced, nodded, then froze when his eyes finally took in the scene before him.

The North Palace stood in the distance like a fifty-foot tombstone, water stains dripping from grey stone and spelling out the names of those who had lived and died within its walls. Pink sunshine sparkled off wet flowers. The smell of velvet and the white spots on a fawn's back grew sickly sweet in the air. The eruption of cheers from the guard only confirmed what Hyrule already knew. 

_ He was finally home. _

The guards grinned like fools and slapped each other on the back as they rushed forward. Their chests swelled with the air of home and the pride that came with a job well and completely done. The other heroes stared first at each other and then at the sparkling tombstone palace in the distance. Hyrule chewed his bottom lip as he tried and failed to decipher the coolness in their eyes. 

"This is my home," Hyrule murmured, his voice just loud enough for the congregation of heroes to hear. "It's not much, and it's a little run down, but I promise that you'll all be treated like royalty when you're here." 

A reverent silence was Hyrule's reply. 

"It's a beautiful place," Wild finally whispered. Hyrule didn't need to analyze the look in the champion's eyes to know that the words were spoken with sincerity. He and the champion shared a strange fondness for ruins, whether it was a byproduct of nature or nurture, neither knew, and the traveler felt his soul lighten at his friend's approval. 

Guards murmured as the group approached the castle gates. Warriors and Time hurried ahead, shoulders held high with the weight of leadership, and explained their presence and purpose to guards posted on the other side of the gates. Perhaps in another world Hyrule would have heard the castle guards' exclamations of surprise, or seen the way they looked at him with wide, unbelieving eyes, but his eyes were fixed on the clouds above. 

They had pulled apart for the first time that day, allowing pink and purple and blue-tinged light to unfurl between them. It spilled like silk over the castle grounds. Rock shone green and grass sparkled grey. Droplets shimmered with iridescence as they hung off flowers that only grew in the shadow of the North Palace. Hyrule's focus shifted from his surroundings to his friends. They had grown restless and fanned out to explore the front yard as Warriors and Time spoke with the castle guards. Four strung together a crown of morning glories and twisted them into Sky's hair. Wild took pictures of the odd plants and bugs crawling under a stone he had overturned. Legend and Twilight were chatting cheerfully in a patch of sunlight, watching as Wind danced through the clearing and pulled the breeze around his fingers. 

With the rattle of the castle gate and the clatter of armor, the heroes were ushered inside the castle. Hyrule walked on air and floated inside. His heart ballooned within him when he caught sight of an albino peacock preening in an empty archway -- the same one he and Impa had raised from an abandoned peachick. Familiar bushes and bugs and breezes welcomed him home. Hyrule tucked the Link doll in the pocket of his tunic and stuck his shaking hands under his arms. 

He was sure he would burst if he had to wait any longer to see his Zeldas. He could already smell the queen's lavender tea and hear her muttering about astrophysics and history in an accent that didn't exist anymore. His fingers itched to help Impa with her stitching and read her stories from books with words too small for her failing eyes. He wanted to watch the fireflies dance at night with the princess at his side and listen to the sounds of hope buzz through the air. He wanted to buy her another pair of gloves for her always-cold fingers--

"Didn't know you were that much of a sap, Hyrule." 

Hyrule's mind turned to static when he realized he had been talking aloud. Warriors winked and nudged him between the ribs. The traveler turned crimson and clamped his hands over his mouth. 

"Oh Hylia, how much did I say?" 

"Not much," Warriors drawled. Something devious glinted in his eyes and voice. "But you did mention something about wanting to watch fireflies dance at night...and with a girl, no less." 

Hyrule's skin glowed red. The hair on his head stuck upwards like the fur on a startled cat. "Oh, oh Hylia on high, no that's not what I meant, it's just that her and I--" 

The captain rolled his eyes and draped his scarf over his shoulder. "Yeah, sure, sure. That's what they all say. Just let me know if you happen to need an impromptu hair stylist or a crash course on how to tie a tie. And if you need someone to set up a pretty little candle-lit dinner for you, make sure to ask me, not the bird boy. Sky can't tell the difference between the smell of roses and manure." 

Mirth replaced embarrassment, and Hyrule snickered and socked Warriors in the shoulder. The captain feigned offense by pressing the back of his hand to his head and declaring that Hyrule would have no chance with the ladies if he insisted in being such a brute. They fell into an easy rhythm and easy conversation as they walked along. The courtyard came into view, and the group thinned as they spread out through the open space. Hyrule caught a glimpse of the front of the group: Time and the small army of palace guards who flanked him on either side. The palace guards were trying and failing to hide the shocked glances they tossed Hyrule’s way. Hyrule’s eyebrows furrowed at the unexplained, silent attention. Was something wrong with his face? He ran his tongue over his teeth and confirmed that nothing was stuck between them. Was it his hair? No, couldn't be that, it had almost grown to the same length it had been before. But perhaps his worry was unwarranted. After all, he hadn't been on the castle grounds for almost half a year; maybe there were other changes in his face that he hadn't taken notice of. He anxiously hoped that none of them were the bad sort. 

One of the palace guards darted off and returned a minute later with another guard, this one with a purple sash across his chest and a crest of the same color on his helmet. Hyrule shivered. It had been a long time since he had talked to the Head of the Royal Guard, and none of his terse conversations with the older man had been pleasant ones. Strangely, the man seemed to be a little taller than Hyrule's memory suggested he had been. The traveler shook away the thought and watched uncomfortably as the Head of the Royal Guard whispered urgently to Time. The elder hero stiffened with surprise, then turned around to face the group. 

“Sky, Wild, and Wind, I need to speak with you all.” 

An electric tension settled over the air. The three heroes in question hurried forward, clearly as confused and apprehensive as everyone else, and the rest of the group fell back to give them their privacy. 

Something was off. 

Hyrule inched forward and lurked a few innocuous paces behind the head of the group. The wind blew their words towards his ears, and Hyrule leaned towards the sound. 

“We sent the letter about four days ago,” Wild began, apparently responding to a question Hyrule hadn’t heard. “Or at least that’s what I remember. I know it was just a few hours before we found Hyrule--er, Link.” 

“There was no follow up letter?” The Head of the Royal Guard asked, voice smooth as silk. There was no judgement in his voice, only confusion. Strange. Hyrule had always remembered the man to have a gravelly voice -- and an insufferably arrogant one at that. 

Sky spoke next. “This is completely my fault. I didn’t even think to run back to the post office and draft another letter. I thought...I don’t know what I thought...” 

  
  
  


Wind glowered and he cut Sky off. “No, it’s my fault. I was the last one at the post office. I was sitting on the office steps when Hy--Link came back, for Hylia’s sake! And...and I didn’t even think to run back in and talk to the guys inside...oh Hylia…” 

Time coughed into his fist. The other three heroes grew silent. 

“None of you are at fault,” the eldest hero explained. His back was turned to Hyrule, but even from there the traveler felt the ice in Time’s gaze. “There were many people involved in delivering this letter to the princess. You only helped draft the words themselves. You were not involved in the delivery process in any capacity, and shouldn’t blame yourselves for what happened afterwards.” 

A white-hot knot twisted around Hyrule’s heart. 

_ What was going on? _

Wind, Wild, and Sky burst out into protest, demanding that the mystery problem be deemed their fault and playing tug-of-war with Time for recognition of their guilt. Tension tightened in the air like a horsehair rope. The Head of the Royal Guard watched them with uncharacteristic silence, then turned to Hyrule. Brilliant blue eyes shone behind the metal visor. 

_ Since when did the man have blue eyes? Hadn’t they always been brown? _

The question died in his mind when the purple-crested guard tapped Time on the shoulder and murmured something into his ear. The elder hero nodded, and the other man gently eased away from the group and walked to Hyrule's side. The Links fell silent as they watched. 

"Is everything alright?" Hyrule asked, finally working up the courage to speak to the man before him. The guard grunted and began to say something, then opted instead to remove his helmet. Bright blond hair spilled around his shoulders. 

_ Wait...Cira? _

He must have muttered it aloud, because Cira chuckled quietly as he carded his fingers through the plume of his helmet. 

"Yeah, it's me. I'm Captain Cira now, I guess. Old man Higa had to step down because he busted his hip. Niji and Sehiro didn't want the position, so the princess asked if I did. I don't know why I said yes, but, well, here I am." 

Something heavy twisted around Hyrule's heart as the words settled. 

_ I missed so much.  _

Hyrule shook away the thought and turned his focus back to Cira. "That's amazing, but not surprising. You deserve the spot. And I'm really sorry that I missed your promotion ceremony." 

Cira smiled and shook his head as if to say he didn’t mind. Hyrule had never seen the poster-boy-turned-Head of the Royal Guard look so terribly uncomfortable. 

"What's wrong?" Hyrule asked at last. He dropped his voice to a whisper so low Captain Cira had to lean forward to hear. "You were talking to Wild and Sky and Wind just now, right? They seemed worried, and I think I heard them apologizing about something. Is something off? If it has anything to do with me then please know that I'm extremely sorry." 

"No, no, Hero, it's nothing like that." 

Hyrule's words died in his throat. He anxiously drummed his nails on his collarbone as he waited for Cira to elaborate. 

"Sir, there's something I need to tell you," Cira began. His breath was uneven and his eyes were only able to make contact with Hyrule's for a few seconds at a time. "Hero, your princess and queen were informed two days ago that, despite a month-long coordinated effort by the Royal Guard, your whereabouts remained unknown. You can imagine how this news would sound to someone who is intimately aware of the danger of your profession." 

Hyrule's eyes went wide. His heart blared behind his ears and the force of each beat sent tremors down his fingers. Captain Cira placed a hand on Hyrule's shoulder. It anchored him, but the traveler placed little faith in the stability it promised. 

"The princess was making arrangements for your funeral this morning."

Acid rose up Hyrule's throat and spilled into his mouth. He clamped his hands over his lips for the second time that day. 

_ He had run away. He had run away, and left her here, and left him there, left his kingdom alone and his best friends afraid because he couldn't handle the weight of his own guilt. And because of his complete incapacity to help the people he loved, the one person whose soul was inexorably tied to his had shattered.  _

Captain Cira placed both hands on Hyrule's shoulders. His eyes blazed with the blue fire of someone who had endured hell and come out stronger. The ice around Hyrule's mouth and legs faded, and the fire burned brighter with the confidence that he, too, could endure this. 

"Hero, I understand that this is a terrifying thing to hear, especially considering how important the princess' well being is to you. So I will take you to her right now, and we can make this all right. But first, you must promise me one thing." 

  
  


Hyrule slowly pulled his hand away from his mouth and rubbed the dry, itchy skin against his tunic. The curious stares of the other Links burned into his back, but he didn't care. 

"Tell me what it is, Captain Cira, and I'll do it." 

Hot silence soaked with expectation bubbled between them. Cira bit his lip, squared his shoulder, and looked the hero of his kingdom in the eyes. 

"You must smile. You must smile when you see her and tell her that everything will be okay." 

_ What? _

An ivory-stained cynicism slurred upwards from Hyrule's heels into his mouth. He tried to swallow the words back, but they poured out anyway. 

"I can't promise her that. I can't lie to her, Captain Cira." 

Captain Cira smiled and shook his head. "You can. Smile for her, and you will make good things come true." 

Hyrule inhaled acid and guilt and the smallest taste of redemption, then nodded. 

"Take me to her." 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[*-2][*3]

“Link?” 

Rose petals spilled from Zelda's hands as she turned around. Her eyes locked with a pair of impossibly familiar ones, and her body froze in disbelief. 

The ghost of her best friend reached forward. Zelda flinched away from its touch. Her head smacked against the statue’s bronze legs. A hot wave of confusion addled her vision as she pulled her dress around her and shuffled backwards. 

_ This isn't him this wasn't him what's happening to me why does it look so real why does it look so sad what is it saying why is it talking where did it come from what does it want why does it look so worried why does it look so scared-- _

And then he smiled. 

It crept up into his eyes, folding the freckles sitting in the way and drawing happy creases around his mouth. It was an outpouring of his soul on his face, and the world illuminated at his command.

He shone. 

And with the same smile reflected on her own face, Zelda shone in return. 

She rushed forward and hugged Link so tight that neither of them could breathe. Both of them grinned stupidly through their blurry vision, lungs straining against the other's hold, shaking until they stilled in the embrace. 

He was back. How, she didn't know. But he was real, and he was in front of her, and he was shining, and the world was in color once again. 

She rested her chin on Link's shoulder and tightened her arms. Captain Cira and Impa watched them through misty eyes. The princess grinned and beckoned them forward. 

"Impa, Captain Cira, get over here!" 

The two did as instructed, approaching awkwardly and squeaking loudly when they were swept into the hug. Zelda laughed as Cira's shy protests and Impa's thankful prayers. Link managed to hug them all at once, his face vibrant and shining as it had been on the day they first met. The presence of strangers warmed the air around them, and Link pulled away to introduce them all to his friends. 

He started with Time, the tallest, who had an elegant scar running through one eye and a fatherly flame burning in the other. He nodded respectfully in the princess' direction but made no attempt to advance. Then there was Four, whose cheeks were red from the wet sun and eyes sharp with the rainbow. He approached the princess cautiously and respectfully, gave a curt bow, and melded back into the group. Zelda was immediately intrigued by him, but Link had already brought the next friend to the front of the group before she could ask more questions. Next was Twilight, who had a canine-like sharpness gleaming in his teeth and eyes. His fur hood smelled like dark woods and blood, but there was only a brotherly warmth in his movements. He looked like a storybook hunter. Zelda found herself smiling softly at him, startling in surprise when he smiled in return. Wind was next, with sea salt frosting his arms and hair so bright it reflected the sun above. As soon as he noticed he had the princess' attention, he flipped backwards and landed on his hands. A sudden gust of wind burst around him and spiraled into the surrounding air. Link moved forward to shield her from the smell of magic, but Zelda grinned widely despite her nausea. 

"I like him a lot," Zelda whispered. Link snickered but said nothing more. 

The next man was introduced as Warriors. He was all suave, bombast, and stone-cut angles, with a navy-blue scarf fluttering and a silver pauldron shining on his shoulder. He bowed dramatically, then leaned forward to whisper something in the princess' ear. She burst out laughing before turning red and clasping her hands over her mouth. Link glared suspiciously at Warriors, but the older man only winked and walked off. Then there was Wild, with hair made of golden silk and a beautiful starburst of scars across his face. He bowed respectfully and held up a white-and-blue flower to her, waiting for her to take it. Zelda refused; she could tell that the flower was special to him based on the tight pallour on his face and the way he delicately pinched the stem between his thumb and forefingers. After a few more minutes of prodding and begging, Wild eventually relented and drew back. He first pretended to walk off, then doubled back and placed the flower between the plaits in her braids. She couldn't see the flower but  _ could _ see the triumphant look on Wild's face. A moment of awkwardness passed between them, then Zelda scrunched up her nose and stuck her tongue out at Wild. The champion grinned widely at her response and dashed off before she could hand the flower back to him. 

"This one reminds me of you," Zelda murmured to Link. Her friend nodded. 

"I think you'll get along very well with him. He's a lot like me, you know." 

And then there was Legend. He made his way forward with his head bowed and his eyes averted. Their gaze met only for a moment, and, surprisingly, Legend was the first to break it. 

"I love your tunic," Zelda whispered, marveling at the maroon cloth and the elegant gold embroidery. Legend startled and smiled at the unexpected compliment. 

"Thank you," he said, his voice shy and thoughtful in a way that reminded her strongly of Link. Legend ran his fingers over the golden embroidery "I actually stitched this onto it myself." 

Zelda reached forward and, with Legend's permission, traced her finger over the gold thread. It was clearly the product of tremendous care. A sadness lingered in his eyes as she pulled away, and, for a moment, Zelda thought she could smell Link's fusion spell lingering on the man's skin. 

“No need to look so serious, Princess,” Link said, his golden smile on his face. “Legend’s a good man. He won’t do anything to you. Well, might say something sarcastic now and then, but beyond that he’s harmless” 

Legend flinched and rolled his eyes as laughter swelled from the group. Zelda fell back as Legend disappeared into the crowd, her eyes still trained on his back. 

And finally, there was Sky, whose hair fluffed around him like the down of baby birds. He had wide eyes and a sweet face, yet the scars across his knuckles and wrist spoke to formidable combat prowess. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Zelda," Sky said, bowing low and extending his hand in expectation of hers. She placed her fingertips in his palm. He lifted his eyes to hers and pressed his lips to her knuckles, then stood straight. "How are you doing today?" 

"I'm wonderful. How are you, sir?" 

Sky laughed. "Better, now that I've seen for myself that you're alright. No need to call me sir, by the way; Sky will do just fine." 

The white cloth draped around his shoulders fluttered in the breeze. Something familiar glinted in his smile. Zelda noted with a start that the group had begun to move. She and Sky fell into step with each other, with Link at her side and Impa just behind them both. 

"So, what are you planning to do now that you have nine unexpected guests on your hands?" 

It took Zelda a moment to realize that Sky's question had been directed to her. She buried her always-cold fingers in the warm silk of her dress as she thought. 

"We have plenty of guest rooms, and I think the cook would be overjoyed to have something to do tonight. Perhaps we can all have dinner with the queen later, if she's feeling well enough to come down." 

Link's eyes snapped to her. Zelda cringed. 

She hadn't told him yet. And, with things as they were, she was hoping she wouldn't have to. Her friend had already been through enough, and she was in no place to put another burden on his back. The queen had shown signs of improvement, anyway, so perhaps there was nothing for either of them to worry about. 

A shadow fell over the princess, nursemaid, and nine heroes as they entered the palace proper. Dark velvet whispered underfoot as wall-mounted candles cast circles of yellow on the walls. Light filtered through windows frosted with condensation and scattered rainbows on the floor. Ancient portraits that smelled like lead paint and wood hung on the walls and watched the group as they advanced. Sky, Link, and Impa protected her from the dark, and the outer circle of men banished the smell of magic from her mind. 

What noble traveling companions Link had. They had all greeted her with such an unexpected level of warmth and reverence; the denizens of her world held their nightmare-plagued princess in rapidly decreasing regard as the years passed, and it was a small shock to her to be greeted with smiles instead of sneers. 

But even with the shining front they put up, Zelda could smell the truth hidden beneath their armor and sunburns. She had seen the eyebags under Warriors' eyes and the way his soul strained to make Zelda laugh. She had seen the worried glances Wild would toss at people he thought weren't looking, the way Time flinched when Captain Cira spoke about his children with a protective flare in his eyes, the way Legend had twitched when Link called him a good man. They all had the same curse she did, a thousand of those little bloody angels sitting on their shoulders and sucking at their souls. 

She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. 

Yes, she knew they were hurting, but she also knew that they would triumph. This was a thing she knew to be true; as sure as the sun would rise, and as sure as Link would smile and the fireflies would come out on the humid nights, the men around her would grow to understand the things that plagued them. She had felt the beginnings of healing herself. If she could heal, or at least attempt to, then so could men better than her. 

The group made their way up the dimly-lit stairs up to the guest quarters, a hallway so riddled with doors and windows and strange decorations that it almost looked like a kaleidoscope. Impa guided the men to their rooms, one for each of them, and smiled as they gaped at the luxury. 

Wind's jaw had nearly dropped to the floor when he opened up the door to his room. He darted back to Zelda's side, took her hand, and practically dragged her to the doorway. 

"Princess, is this whole bed seriously for me?" 

Zelda took a look at the room. She couldn't see what it was that had captured the boy's attention. 

"Are the purple pillows too feminine for your tastes?" Zelda asked, eyes searching the room. "Don't worry, I understand. I can have them replaced with a different set if you would like--" 

"What? No! No, this room is amazing! It's bigger than my house! But are you sure it's just for me?" 

The golden paint of the furniture reflected in Wind's eyes, but Zelda caught the dark undercurrent beneath them. She placed her fingertips on Wind's shoulder and waited until he turned to face her. 

"This is an average sized room by castle standards, but I understand how difficult it can be to sleep in a new place all alone, especially if it feels so big. If you would like, I can have one of the others sleep in this room too. The bed should be big enough. I can get another one set up right next to it if you would like more space, however. I know that you're not scared, but perhaps company would help you sleep better, if just for tonight." 

Wind leaned into Zelda's touch, muttering the occasional fragment of protest, then relented. The princess smiled and resisted the urge to run her hands through his hair. 

What a wonderful young lad he was. 

"Wind, I'm going to go check on the others. I'll be back in a moment, but you can come with me if you wish." 

The boy said nothing, then turned to trail on her heels when she left the room. His presence was warm. Zelda turned her attention to the lingering men in the halls. Sky, Four, Time, Twilight, Wild. and Legend had all retired to their rooms, but Link and Warriors stood next to a window and chatted with each other. 

"Is everything alright?" Zelda asked. 

"Oh, Princess! And hello there, Wind. Yes, everything is fine. I was just talking with Warriors -- he feels like the room is a little too big for him." 

"Hyru--Link! Couldn't you have said that in a way that made me not sound so ungrateful?" Zelda laughed as Warriors turned to face her, his scarf piled high around his shoulders. "Forgive me, I truly appreciate your hospitality, but the lovely suite you offered me was much larger than what I’m used to. Is there perhaps a smaller one? I completely understand if that happens to not be the case, and I implore you to not trouble yourself too much if changing my room is an impossibility. I'm tremendously grateful for even being offered a chance to stay here." 

Wind glanced at the princess. She winked at him, and the boy illuminated. 

"Warriors, you can stay with me! I'll take good care of you and make sure you don't get any nightmares." 

The older man's eyebrows flickered upwards in surprise, then amusement as Wind prattled on about how he would protect poor Warriors from everything from cockroaches to cold blankets. With a wave to Link and Zelda, Warriors allowed Wind to escort him to the room. Their animated conversation hung in the air long after their departure. Zelda smiled at the sound. 

"Wind, he's a wonderful young man," Zelda said. 

Link smiled. "You've really taken a liking to him, huh?" 

"I suppose so. It's hard not to, though. He's very easy to be around, and his presence is very comforting." 

Link agreed and smiled even wider. Light streamed through the window and spilled on the floor, speckled and spotted with condensation from the other side. 

"Princess, I actually wanted to ask you something. Three questions, actually, do you have a moment?" 

Zelda's fingers froze. She buried them in her dress once again and forced herself to look Link in the eyes. "Of course. Go ahead." 

"First of all, is there any place that you wanted me to stay? I noticed that Time is lodging in the usual guest room that I sleep in -- oh, please don't apologize, it's okay! It's not my room anyway, please don't worry, Princess -- and I didn't want to bother any of the others by asking if I could stay with them. I can stay in the barracks with the guardsmen, and I don't mind sleeping outside if there's no room in the castle." 

Zelda shook her head and bit her lip. How on earth had she forgotten to give Link a room? And did he really think she would want him to sleep outside? Alone? 

Six months had cut deeper into their friendship than she had thought it would ever be able to. 

"Link, there's a small room adjacent to my chambers, if you would like to sleep there. It's intended for my lady-in-waiting, but considering that I've never had one, it's available. If you would like to use it, of course." 

Link turned crimson. 

"N-next to your room? Are you sure that's alright? Would Impa be okay with that? We should ask the queen first--" 

Impa's dry laughter echoed through the hallway. She closed the door of one room behind her as she made her way over to the pair, explaining that she had been busy showing Wild where the bathroom was but had been drawn out by the sound of their conversation.

"I would never permit anyone but you to sleep in a room so close to the princess', but considering her poor condition in the recent days, neither I nor the queen nor the nobles would see it as a breach of propriety. Someone needs to be with her, and it can't always be me." 

Link nodded at Impa's words, then froze. 

"Poor condition? What do you mean?" 

Zelda's fingers grew colder. She picked at the chafed skin of her wrist and pressed herself in a corner. 

"It's back," Impa said. 

The words settled like knives on the floor. Link looked at Zelda. She didn't look back. 

"Very well," he said at last. "I'll stay with her. I had another question." 

The knives started to bleed. Impa and Zelda held their breath. 

"Where is the queen? I haven't seen her today. Zelda told me that she wasn't feeling well, but I would like to at least let her know that I've returned. In case she was worried, I mean, I don't want her to think that I’m dea--" 

"She doesn't know," Zelda interrupted. "We never told her about the letter. She doesn't know. She never knew you went missing." 

"What?" 

"She's very ill," Impa explained, her words thinner than ribbons. "We didn't want to stress her out further." 

Link's face twisted in confusion, but it passed like seafoam on the sea. Freckles folded as that same, shining smile came back on his face. 

"I understand,” he said. “Frankly, I would have done the same thing if I was in your position. But would it be possible for me to see her? I won't say much, and if she's sleeping I'll make sure to only---" 

"No." 

If Impa's words had been knives, Zelda's were axes. Link flinched at the ice in her voice. 

"She's sleeping right now, so you can't see her," Zelda stammered. "You can see her later. You will see her later. But not now. You need to rest after your long journey. She said that she was feeling better anyway, so perhaps she'll be able to join us for dinner." 

Knives and axes bled platinum across the floor. Link bowed in acquiescence. His third question remained unspoken. 

"Now, in regards to dinner," Impa said, her voice bright with excitement both fabricated and real, "the princess and I had big plans. Link, we'll need your help." 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

Wild fiddled with the buttons of his suit. The dark brown satin squeezed his shoulders, and the cyan thread embroidery over the cuffs cast an unusual air of elegance over his figure. He patted the frills of his shirt with his hand and wondered briefly how they were still (or already?) fashionable even in Hyrule's era. His tight braid tugged against his scalp. Looking into the mirror, he had to stifle a laugh. He had never realized how big his forehead was when there were no bangs for it to hide behind. 

Either way, though, he looked good. A little too good, maybe. It felt strange to be dressing up this much for something as simple as dinner with the queen. Perhaps simple wasn't the right word. It was the queen, after all. It would make sense if her presence demanded a higher level of formality than that of the princess'. Wild cast a glance out the window. The sunset already promised to be far less impressive than that of its morning counterpart; clouds had abandoned the sky and manifested as mist on the floor, leaving little for the pale sunset reds and yellows to reflect off of. Wild pressed back a few stray hairs when he heard a knock on the door. 

"Come in!" he called. 

The door creaked open and Time stepped inside. Once again, Wild had to stifle a snicker. The man was uncharacteristically well dressed, with a dark coat, white shirt, and small red brooch pinned to the lapel of his coat. His hair had been brushed down and back and was set in a smaller braid of its own. Wild noted with mild disappointment that the older hero's forehead was notably smaller than his. 

"It's an elegant place, isn't it?" Time began, his eyes lingering on the massive bed and the various paintings on the wall. "This castle as a whole. I'm surprised that the traveler can live here comfortably. He never struck me as one with a taste for the extravagant." 

Wild nodded in agreement. Even the furniture seemed to sag under its own down-stuffed elegance. "Yeah, it's weird how nice this whole place is, especially considering how run-down some of the places we visited were. But I've been thinking about it, and all the stuff here looks old. Like, really old. I feel like most of the things here have probably belonged to the royal family for a few centuries now." 

Time's eyebrows flickered upwards. He tilted his head to the side as he considered Wild's words, then nodded. "That would make sense. Well, anyway, the reason I came here was to ask if you're ready. The others are waiting in the hallway. Hyrule said he would meet with us in a few minutes -- I expect he's outside by now. Considering how well we're all dressed up, I daresay we're in for a wonderful meal." 

"Oh, I didn't know I was holding you all up. I'm almost ready to go, just give me a minute to use the bathroom and then we can head out." 

Time nodded as Wild disappeared into this bathroom. The older hero's mind grew loud as he walked around the room and marveled at its extravagance. Truly, the princess and her nursemaid were taking wonderful care of them. The princess had stopped by everyone's rooms a few hours after they had settled in with a basket on her hip. It had been filled with all sorts of interesting things she had collected from around the castle: books, magazines, papers and pencils and even weighted blankets for those still catching up on their sleep debt. The heroes had looked at her with wide, grateful eyes as they selected things to entertain themselves with for the day, thankful that they weren't stuck with themselves. All of them had spent the day sleeping, showering, and fiddling with the things the princess had brought to them, and none of them had been particularly presentable when a small team of seamstresses knocked on their doors and asked to take their measurements. Time hadn't thought much of their sudden intrusion until about half an hour ago, when one of those seamstresses showed up at his door with a suit in her arms and an invitation in her hand. She passed both to him quickly, informing him that he and the others had been invited to eat dinner with the queen, and that he was expected to wear that suit for the occasion. 

Time chuckled to himself and fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve. The suit fit exceptionally well, yet it still felt strange to be wearing something other than chainmail. 

Wild came out of the bathroom a moment later, and the two made their way out of the room. The champion let out a low whistle when he caught sight of the others, who had congregated outside the room. They all looked great. Each of them were decked out in elegant suits and coats that fit snugly against their form. Their faces glowed with health and the aftermath of good naps, and they all seemed to be at least partially drunk with sleep and entertainment. Time peeled away to chat with Four. Wild sidled up to Warriors and laughed as the captain recounted how many portraits of Wind the boy had asked him to make. The stories became increasingly absurd when the sailor in question decided to butt in, giving his own account of his artistic endeavors that day. Based on the paint stains on Warriors and Wind's fingers, Wild supposed he had to give their stories some credence. The champion's eyes flickered to Legend. The man looked fantastic, quite frankly. He was decked out in a coat the same color as the tunic Princess Zelda had liked so much. Small golden chains dangled from his cuffs. His hair was brushed back and his face was still pink from vigorous washing, and, for a moment, Wild could imagine Legend as a born-and-bred nobleman. He even looked happy, eyes wide and alert as he talked to Sky about who knows what. 

"Hey there, everyone!" 

Hyrule entered the hallway and waved to the group. Everyone clapped dramatically at his arrival, and a friendly roar echoed in the halls as they greeted Hyrule. The traveler flushed and waved, fiddling with the hem of his coat as he did. Wild furrowed his eyebrows at the traveler's humble outfit. It was clean and elegant, but clearly threadbare. There was even a water stain on the left cuff. If a stranger had seen Hyrule with the rest of the group, they might have mistaken the traveler for their servant. 

Wild grinned to himself. It was clear that the traveler very much still had the simple taste he was known for. 

"Anyway," Hyrule began, "I wanted to let you all know that dinner is ready. Come with me, I'll lead you all to the dining hall. Stay close. It's easy to get lost in this place." Something in Hyrule's voice shook, but in a good way. Wild gave Hyrule a sidelong look. Mischief glinted in his friend's eyes, and the champion raised his eyebrows in exaggerated intrigue. 

Now what exactly could the traveler be planning? 

Everyone followed as Hyrule led them through the castle. Their voices warmed the silence as they walked along, and Wild hurried to the front. He fell in step with Hyrule and leaned in close to his ear. 

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

Hyrule sighed and rolled his eyes, but a smile flickered on his lips. "Well, I guess there's no point in hiding it from you. I had a feeling you would be the first to figure out." 

Wild puffed out his chest and tossed back his braid, smiling dramatically as he did. "Of course I would. You underestimate me by thinking I would be fooled." 

"Pfft! I suppose. But listen, I promise you it's all good. The surprise, I mean. It's nothing like those terrible pranks you and Wind pull with cream or ice water." 

Wild snorted in faux indignation and socked Hyrule on the shoulder. The two grinned at each other and carried on their friendly banter as the group descended a flight of stairs. A light at the end of the hallway grew brighter and the sounds of distant voices grew louder. Hyrule scratched the back of his neck. Wild tossed him a glance. The traveler seemed to be remarkably less composed now that they had nearly made it to their destination. 

"Hey, you alright?" Wild asked. 

Hyrule nodded and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just nervous." He turned to face the group and beckoned with one arm for them to congregate closer. "We're about to enter. Don't make too much noise, alright?" 

The group nodded and filed behind Hyrule. Wild was the only one standing beside him. They walked down the hallway and exited through the other side. Light bloomed around them, temporarily blinding and confusing Wild. He blinked quickly, trying to get his bearings and catch a glimpse of the dining room. It took him a moment to realize that this was no dining room. 

This was a ballroom. 

A voice crackled and boomed above them, and the world trembled with noise. 

"Everyone please welcome the Hero of Hyrule and his traveling companions! They vanquished the monsters in Darunia Town and traveled with the First Division of the Royal Guard to Nabooru Town, protecting citizens and destroying monsters along the way. Please give them a warm welcome!" 

A cheerful roar echoed throughout the room. The final piece fell in place, and Wild's jaw dropped open. 

This wasn't dinner with the queen. 

This was dinner with half the kingdom.

This was a gala that had been organized for  _ them _ , and in less than a day, no less. 

The sound of clapping grew deafening as the heroes entered. Guards wearing ceremonial armor trembled with excitement as they caught sight of the group. Massive chandeliers hung from the roof and cast rainbow droplets on the polished floor beneath. Servants weaved in and out of conversational circles with offerings of champagne and cocktails and small fruits. Wild quickly noticed that not everyone was an elegantly dressed nobleman or woman. Men with threadbare coats milled about the room, holding the hands of women with unpainted nails and plain dresses. Barefoot children ran around, chasing newly-made friends and ducking away from the hands of their anxious parents. 

People grew silent as the group passed by. Children and men, rich and poor, watched with wide, reverent eyes as they drunk in the sight of the heroes. They waved only to Hyrule, who always waved back. 

[*-3][*4]

"This is quite the prank, Hyrule," Wild murmured. The traveler laughed. 

"I hope it is! The princess and Impa spent almost the entire day setting up the ballroom and putting together the menu, and I spent the afternoon running to nearby villages and inviting the people there. You wouldn't believe how easy it is to organize a party when so many people are eager for something to be happy about." 

"Dude, that's awesome, but didn't you rest? Even a little bit?" 

Hyrule winked. "No rest for the wicked." 

A tray piled high with candied fruits and sweetmeats was carted by. Wild watched it go, swallowing back the saliva building in his mouth, and remembered to catch up with the group just before they disappeared into the crowd. Hyrule led them to a long, wide table in a quiet corner of the room and gestured for them all to take a seat. Wind did so immediately, popping the candies he had snagged into his mouth and slouching against the chairs. Time and Twilight still looked shocked from the unexpected amount of people. Warriors had drifted off long ago and was probably now chatting with an interesting stranger. Four marveled at the chandeliers above as he nibbled on Wind's candies. Legend seemed to be more focused on the group itself, darting after Sky when the man made a wrong turn and nearly got lost in the crowd. 

"The buffet is open, so feel free to get whatever food you all want," Hyrule said. "The princess and the queen haven't arrived yet, but I expect them to be here in a few minutes. I think they're still getting ready. It's a big crowd to look presentable for, you know. Oh, and you don't need to sit at this table specifically! If you find a different place you want to eat at, that's totally okay! Just try not to enter the palace proper or you might get lost." 

The group nodded, and those that hadn't already dispersed did so now. Wild made a beeline for the buffet. Noblemen and farmers swarmed around him and slowed his progress to a crawl; Wild had to resist climbing up onto the highest place he could find and parasailing to the buffet. Nearly a quarter hour had passed before Wild had wrestled through the crowd and finally staked his place in line. He tapped his feet anxiously on the ground and tried to peer over innumerable heads to catch a glimpse of the food. No dice. Oh well. He would see it eventually. 

"Quite the crowd, huh?" 

Wild turned around to come face to face with Time. The champion smiled at the familiar face as the line crawled along. 

"Yeah, it is. Who knew that Hyrule had so many people in his kingdom?" 

Time chuckled. "I always knew that there were more people than we gave it credit for, but this is something else. It's quite beautiful to see all these different kinds of people mingling together, don't you think?" 

Wild nodded eagerly. It was strange to watch velvet-clad merchants talk with fishermen so casually, but it was undeniably heart-warming. 

"Maybe their suffering brought them closer together?" Wild suggested. The line crept along, and the two neared the buffet table. 

"That would make sense. After all, I imagine their suffering brought into the relationships they have with each other into a new light. The merchant would starve without the fisherman, and the fisherman would have no nets if not for the merchant. You see? But it's a shame that all these eyes could only be opened by misfortune."

An intelligent response rattled in Wild's mind, but it evaporated when he drew near to the buffet. He could only afford a distracted “uh-huh” in response to Time as he took in the sight of feast before him.

Turkeys with golden skin sat on massive white plates, cushioned with lettuce and coated in honey gravy. There were scallops with shining innards, creamy soup, asparagus sprinkled with mushrooms and almonds, small silver snacking fish and big ones swimming in juice. Salads, cakes, fruits, and sweetmeats too pretty to be wheeled around in carts sat on the fringes of the table, which strained under the weight of the feast. A little fountain of dipping chocolate stood on the far end, and Wild made a note to use the living daylights out of it as soon as he got the chance.

"You're looking at that food like you haven't eaten in years," Time remarked, a smile on his face. Wild snapped his jaw shut and colored with embarrassment. 

"Sorry! It just looks really good." 

Time laughs. Wild decided that he liked the rumbling sound; it was smooth and strong, like thunder from a far-away storm. 

"No need to apologize, Wild. I was only a brush away from doing the same thing, you know. This really is a feast." 

"You can say that again!" 

They loaded their plates up with food as they walked down the buffet table, Wild almost sinfully so. Scallops shimmered and honey gravy trickled in small rivers as their conversation continued. 

"How are you feeling, Old Man?" 

"Better. A lot better." Time looked at Wild, an intense blue shining in his eye. "How about you?" 

"I'm just fine. I'm not worrying about the others as much as I usually do." 

The intense look in Time's eye didn't flicker. "Wild, it's not your responsibility to worry about the others." 

"It's not yours either, yet you still do." 

They placed a few strawberries on their plates. Wild dipped them in chocolate. Time didn't. 

"Well, like I said before, you all decided to make me the leader," Time mused. "That comes with a few responsibilities, you know." 

They quietly made their way back to the table. Wild struggled to balance his two plates as he weaved through the swarms of people. Time followed close behind, balancing his nearly empty one on the pads of his fingertips. The older hero drew close to Wild and offered to take the second plate off his hands. The champion gladly accepted. 

"Wild, tell me something. You said you were worrying about someone, yes? Who is it?" 

For a moment, Wild considered lying. He decided against it; he wasn't a bad liar by any means, but it was hard to pull off the elegance and nonchalance required to lie under Time's intense glare. 

"Warriors. Not as much anymore, but Legend said he was acting weird. Which would make sense, considering everything that’s happened.” 

Time furrowed his eyebrows as his gaze trailed across the ballroom. Warriors' scarf shone in the far side of the room: it looked like he was engrossed in conversation with a group of important-looking noblemen. Their faces were impossible to see from the distance they were at, but there were no signs of tension in the air. 

"Warriors? Are you sure?" 

"Yes. I didn't notice it at first, but now that I'm paying more attention to him, I think something is definitely off." 

Their table came back into view. Legend, Wind, Sky, Hyrule, and Twilight had somehow already gotten their food. Wild assumed that they picked it off the servants that came and went. The princess and queen had still not arrived, so everyone's posture was crooked and casual as they ate. Time and Wild put their plates down, but only the latter took a seat. The champion noted that Time had only taken one bite out of his strawberries, whereas Wild had eaten all of them on the walk back from the buffet. 

"Time, are you going to take a seat?" 

The oldest hero shook his head. "I'm going to go talk to Warriors. I'll be back in a moment, may you please watch my food for me?" 

Wild flashed Time a thumbs-up and watched as he was swept away by the crowd. A familiar chill of concern frosted his gums, but he swallowed the taste. It was too nice of a night to let old worries drag him down. Wild nibbled on Time's strawberries as he watched the others. Sky and Hyrule had fallen back into a casual debate. Wind pulled marshmallows apart between his fingers and watched the white fluff stretch and twist. Legend and Twilight left to get food. Wild watched them go, eyes trailing against the polished-bone floor and wandering up to the orchestra on stage. They played a slow song on strange instruments. Wild found himself bobbing along; it was a nice, light tune, something that sounded more like an etude than a proper composition, but it was beautiful regardless. Wild quickly found the tune stuck in his head. 

A man in a green suit approached the orchestra stage with a strange device in his hand. It looked like a cone, similar to the paper ones that Warrior would curl around his mouth to amplify his voice. The man said something to the musicians, and their music stopped. Wild tried not to glower too obviously at the sudden cessation of music and watched as the green-suit man took a stand on the stage. The man grinned and rose the cone to his mouth. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he boomed, "please welcome your Princess Zelda, heiress to the Hylian throne and descendent of the queen!" 

Curtains on the other side of the room drew back to reveal the princess. She stood on the top of the steps, eyes shining in the bright light, and slowly made her way down the stairs. A knee-length dress bobbed around her with every step she took. Delicate frills adorned the front and back of her dress, and tiny pink shoes with little bows on the front carried her down the stairs. 

The applause was quiet and underwhelming. Most of it came from Wild, Wind, Sky, and Hyrule, who slammed their hands apart and together to make up for the people who didn't. 

Hyrule rushed forward to meet her. People clapped louder when they saw him, and Hyrule gently guided the princess down the rest steps and towards their table. The excitement faded away. The etude played once more and melded with the sounds of chattering people. 

Hyrule had already prepared a plate and seat for the princess, so all the heroes could do was wait and watch anxiously as she approached. 

"Hello, Miss Princess!" Wind called, waving the princess over to their table. She cheerfully returned his gesture and hurried forward. Wild pulled out her chair and Sky gestured for her to sit in it, and after a few minutes of goading and insistence, convinced her to take a seat. 

"I love your dress, Princess," Wild said. 

"Yes! It's so lovely!" Sky chirped. 

The princess blushed and bit her lip, murmuring thank yous as she did. Ringlets framed her face. Hyrule pushed a loaded plate towards her as they fell into easy conversation. Wild watched happily as he snacked on Time's food. He wondered idly where the queen might be, but quickly brushed away the thought. Still getting ready, most likely. His fingers buzzed. He couldn't wait to meet her. 

Wild picked at his scars as he ate and smiled. The princess was a surprisingly adept conversationalist; she talked about everything from rare plant species to odd books she found in the library, and Wild smiled at her familiar energy. The spirit of the princesses really had a timeless quality. The champion listened with half an ear as Wind eagerly listened to the princess' tales and as Hyrule urged her to eat. Wild cracked a few jokes. Sky made sure to laugh at all of them. 

Twilight and Legend had still not come back. Neither had Four, or Time, or Warriors. Wild scanned the crowd for their faces and almost immediately got distracted when he saw the green-suit man walking back up to the stage. He had the cone in his hand. The orchestra grew quiet, and the ballroom tightened with excitement. The man stood up on stage and brought the strange contraption to his mouth. 

An uncomfortable knot buzzed in Wild's stomach, and he found himself twisting around in his chair to get the best view possible of the curtains. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your hostess, the current reigning monarch of the Kingdom of Hyrule reawakened from her centuries-long slumber, Queen Zelda!" 

The ballroom roared with applause. Mothers and children stood up and clapped vehemently, and even the musicians put down their instruments to join in the standing ovation. Wild cast a glance behind him and saw that everyone at his table was doing the same.

The curtains slowly drew back. Wild first recognized Impa, who had put on a simple purple dress and tied up her hair in two small braids. His eyes then drifted to the thin, tall figure next to her. The silhouette was covered head to toe in crimson. Her face was shielded with a ruby-red veil, her body wrapped in a tight dress that flared out at her ankles and dripped down the steps like a bloodstain. Not a scrap of skin was visible, but the crown that sparkled on her head answered any lingering questions as to who she might be. 

Wild never remembered standing up, but he found himself clapping so hard his hands hurt. The queen curtsied stiffly to the crowd and made her way down the steps. She and Impa stopped almost immediately at a cluster of tables on the other side of the room. Wild must have hid his disappointment poorly, because the princess leaned in to touch his shoulder. 

"She's just greeting the guests. It will probably be some time until she makes it to our table, but I have a feeling that she'll be staying with us for quite a while." 

"Oh, well, that makes sense. Thank you for explaining, Princess."

The princess nodded and turned back to her food. Wild cast Hyrule a quick glance. If the tension in the traveler's eyes meant anything, he probably hadn't got a chance to speak with the queen either. The princess repeated her earlier statement to Hyrule, and he gradually relaxed and turned his attention back to the others. Wild trailed his fork through a small puddle of gravy on his plate and let his eyes skip around the room. He caught a glimpse of Warriors and Time standing by a lonely window. Their silhouettes were backlit by the moon. It was impossible to see their faces or hear their voices. 

Wild popped a grape in his mouth and winced when the taste clashed with the leftover gravy on his tongue. 

"--you're seriously telling me the author killed off the entire main cast?" 

Hyrule's indignant question brought Wild’s attention to Sky, Wind, and the princess' conversation. All four of them seemed to be embroiled in a serious discussion regarding one of the books Sky had read earlier that day. 

"Yeah, I know!" Sky said. He crossed his arms and pulled a long lock of hair out of his eyes. "I still can't believe it. I read the entire trilogy today and I got really attached to the characters -- especially Miram. I cried when I read the last book. I didn't care much for the cast, but that doesn't mean I wanted everyone to die, you know? I mean, what kind of story ends with the bad guy winning? 

Hyrule and the princess nodded in understanding. Wind chewed loudly on a marshmallow as he offered his own thoughts to the conversation. 

"Sometimes authors kill off characters to give a message." 

Sky huffed. "I know, I know, but it still sucks. It takes so much emotional energy to read a story, you know? It's like an investment, sort of. And when all the characters died I kind of felt like I was cheated. Does that make sense? I mean, I don't even like reading that much, but I stuck around because that book was really good....man, that ending was a huge bummer. At least I got to play Cee-Lo with Legend when I finished reading."

"Cee-lo?" the princess asked. 

"Yeah! Do you know how the game works, Princess? Probably not, I don't imagine that you're the gambling type..." 

Sky and Wind then proceeded to explain to the princess how the gambling game worked, much to Hyrule's chagrin. Wild laughed at their antics, popped another grape in his mouth, shuddered from the taste, and scanned the room. He spotted Four and Twilight standing in the middle of a circle of kids and giving them piggy-back rides. Wild smiled to himself. He would probably join them later -- if he could still move, that is. Eating three plates in less than half an hour had a way of making one feel heavier than usual. 

"Hello, gentlemen, how are you enjoying the food so far?" 

Wild's head snapped around at the sound of Impa's voice. She stood next to the princess, waving shyly at the group. 

The queen was at her side. 

Wild's heart swelled with excitement. He made a move to offer his seat to her, but Hyrule beat him to it. Wind offered his chair to Impa, and the two heroes found new seats a few spots down. Their earlier conversation about archetypes and hidden, poetic messages crumbled away under the pressure of the queen's presence. 

"You're the queen, right?" Wild asked. The crimson-clad figure turned to him, seemingly surprised that someone had so quickly broken the silence, and nodded slowly. Wild couldn't see anything behind her thick veil, but he could already feel a kinship sparkling between them. Wind, seemingly emboldened by Wild's bravery, asked the next question. 

"Your Highness, did you know that Hyr--Link has a nickname for you?" Wind's eyes sparkled with mischief. Hyrule turned pink and tried to get the sailor to stop, but nobody made any move to help him. After all, it was funnier this way. "He calls the princess Dawn, and he calls you Aurora. After that fairytale of the sleeping princess. You're kind of like her, huh?" 

The queen muttered something in Impa's ear. The nursemaid smiled and turned to face the group. 

"The queen says that she loves that fairy tale a lot, so she's honored to be nicknamed after it." Impa leaned to the side as the queen whispered something else to her, then nodded. "How about you all introduce yourselves to her? This is her first time meeting you all, you know."

Everyone eagerly did so. Sky talked to the queen at length, complimenting her dress and shoulder-length gloves. Wind chipped in by saying that her veil looked "sick," and Wild hurried to explain that the term was a compliment. Hyrule and the princess watched them converse with happy smiles on their faces. 

"Hey, can we call you Aurora too?" Wind blurted out. The entire group cringed with second-hand embarrassment and tried to look away, shocked when the queen eagerly nodded her head. She leaned in to whisper something to Impa. The nursemaid relayed her words to the group. 

"She says she would be more than happy if you all did so. The title of “Queen” is bothersome anyway." 

The group broke out in surprised laughter. Even the queen brought her hand to her veil and laughed soundlessly. 

"Those were her words, not mine!" Impa insisted. 

Another peal of laughter echoed off the walls. Wild relished the sound as he snuck a few slices of candied apple off of Sky's neglected plate and into his mouth. Minutes passed by with the group asking Aurora constant questions and receiving answers through Impa. Eventually the two departed, citing the need to greet the other guests, and the princess and four heroes were left alone again. Wild watched them go. 

Even though he hadn't been able to say everything he wanted to, he was still glad he got to spend time with the queen. Perhaps he would be lucky enough for it to happen again. 

Moonlight spilled through the windows as Wild slipped back into conversation with the others. Servants came and went, carrying salty snacks, then sweets, then light drinks. They tasted delicious but were filled with empty energy, only there to wash down the rest of the food and prolong the pleasure of eating nice things. Families with small children bundled up their sleeping little ones, bade their friends goodbye, and made their way home. Some of the braver ones approached Hyrule and Zelda to deliver their thanks in person, jostling their toddlers awake so they would be able to get a close look at their fabled hero. Noblemen and women lingered a bit longer. It was on nights like these that those who had the luxury of waking up late had the chance to flaunt it. The moon climbed higher into the sky. Time and Warriors returned to the table. They said little as they sat down, but the champion took notice of how closely they sat together. Wild smiled to himself. 

The ballroom was much emptier now. After a brief moment of deliberation, Wild shook out the pins and needles in his legs and stood up to stretch. His painfully bloated stomach strained against the buttons of his collar. He fiddled with a few buttons until they fell away and meandered through the room. Perhaps it would be a good idea to look for a bathroom. With this new goal now in mind, Wild slipped out of the ballroom and into a quiet corridor beside it. The champion let out a grunt as he took in his surroundings. Judging from the hallway’s deep-set windows and the moonlight pouring through them, he had taken a wrong turn some time ago. 

He made a move to leave when his eyes caught on a familiar silhouette. 

[*-4][*5]

"Your Highness?" Wild whispered. 

The queen didn't seem to hear him. She remained on the far end of the corridor: a pillar of crimson -- silent, unmoving -- with her gloved fingers resting on the windowsill and her head pressed against the glass. Wild inhaled through his nostrils. His lungs swelled beneath his ribcage. In a careful, concentrated stream, Wild exhaled courage and inched closer to the queen. 

His foot fell on a squeaky floorboard, one that immediately took the liberty of declaring Wild’s presence to the queen. The woman startled at the sudden noise and took a few steps back. Wild noticed quietly how even the moonlight didn't illuminate the face behind the veil. 

"I'm sorry if I startled you, Your Highness," Wild apologized. 

Wild couldn't tell for sure, but he thought he saw a smile behind the veil. The queen beckoned him forward and moved to the side, giving him space to stand by the windowsill. Moonlight filtered through the multicolored stained glass and cooled Wild's face. 

"You know, Your Highness, I've been wanting to speak with you all night," Wild began. His eyes were fixated on the bubbles and small imperfections in the glass. "Hy--Link told me that you were asleep for years. Dozens of years, if not hundreds. Tell me, is that true?" 

Wild waited for her to nod or give some other nonverbal response. The silence persisted for two heartbeats, then was broken apart by crimson fingers. 

"Yes. Yes, indeed, the tale that Link told you was true." 

Wild startled and turned to stare at the queen. He wasn't sure what he had expected her voice to sound like, but it hadn't been this. There was a quaver in it, not from emotion, but something else Wild couldn't quite place. The sound was gravelly, but Wild found solace in it anyways. 

"Do you remember them?" Wild asked. "Your friends. From before. Do you remember them?"

"...yes."

Wild nodded. His face betrayed no emotion. 

"Do you miss them?" Wild asked. 

"Pardon?" 

"Do you miss them? Your friends. Your family. The people you loved before you fell asleep." 

Moonlight sang between them. The queen said nothing, but her grip on the windowsill tightened. 

And finally came a murmured "yes." 

Wild nodded, his heart growing heavy with a shared burden. His fingers drummed against the windowsill as he searched for the words to say. 

"Your Highness, I understand. I really do -- more than you can imagine. I don't suppose Link told you my story?" 

The queen shook her head. "He's not one to tell me other people's secrets." 

Wild sighed under the weight of his memories’ dust. It rattled in his lungs as he pushed forward. "Then I suppose I'll do the honors. Your Highness, our stories are almost the same. I also fell asleep for a long time, a hundred years, actually, and woke up to a completely different world. I remember very little from the time before I woke up, only a few memories here and there, but I knew I had friends. Friends that I loved a lot, and that I didn't appreciate enough." 

Wild's words caught on a knot in his throat. He tried to force himself to continue, but the words refused to come out. He blinked quickly. 

"Do you miss them?" the queen asked. 

"...yes. More than anything in the world." 

The queen placed a gloved hand over Wild's. He could feel her bones through the silk, but the frail grip still brought him comfort. 

"Your Highness, I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to tell me the truth." 

She squeezed his hand in promise. Wild nodded vaguely to himself and continued. 

""You haven't spoken to Link or the princess about this, have you, Aurora? They don't know how much you're hurting." 

The queen flinched in surprise. Whether it was from the sudden usage of her nickname or Wild's razor-sharp perception, it was almost hard to tell. 

"I'm not hurting," she lied. Her voice was a rattling whisper. 

This time it was Wild's turn to grip the queen's hand. Her bones felt soft and fragile in his palm, like those of a grandmother who had spent her life working away the skin of her hands. Wild squeezed away the tremor under the silk. 

"Pretending to always be okay, I guess we have that in common. You really are like me, huh?" Wild laughed. "That's not a bad thing, I think. I'm a pretty neat guy. Most of the time." 

The atmosphere around them warmed. A corner of the queen's veil quirked upwards, and Wild was sure she was smiling. 

"But we have now," the queen whispered. 

"What do you mean?" 

"We have now. Perhaps we can grow to love it as much as we loved our pasts." 

"...perhaps. Perhaps we can." 

There were three things that Wild knew to be true: he had fought, he had died, and he had come back. Yet his story carried the cheapness that came with only belonging to one person. There were four other souls who had fought alongside him and crumbled into teal dust, souls that carried the name champion with far more grace than he ever could. Now they were only whispers in the wind. 

There was a fourth thing Wild knew to be true: he had failed before. It was a fact he had finally come to terms with -- what else could be done? his heart had grown tired of grieving for itself -- and even though the color of ghosts always brought tears to his eyes, he never let himself dwell on it. His failure was a part of him now, like the scars on his skin or the acid in his stomach or the permanent limp in his right leg. He had accepted it in fragments. Those fragments left long, jagged cuts across the marble of his soul, but they were there, and they were accepted. 

All he had was now. The present. And what a present it was. He had fallen dangerously in love with the life he lived now and the relationships he had nurtured with careful, determined hands. The marble cuts across his soul would never be matched with another set. His now would never become his past. 

There was a fifth thing Wild knew to be true: he would die with blood in his throat before he ever let his present crumble away. 

His words echoed off the walls. Wild startled when he realized he had spoken his last sentence aloud. The queen squeezed his hand in a mixture of sympathy and agreement. 

There they stood, two people who had fallen asleep for lifetimes and had arisen to an unfamiliar world. 

There they stood, a crimson queen and a cyan champion, drowning in the moonlight and mourning for the things they could no longer love. 

Wild and Aurora stood like that for a long time, eyes fixed on their past and present. The stained-glass window before them sparkled with imperfections, and Wild tried to swallow the grief in his throat. 

The marble scars ached. He tried to ignore them.

Eventually, the sound of the dying party within reclaimed their attention. Wild and Aurora glanced at each other and decided to return. 

They were greeted by a nearly empty ballroom. There were a few stragglers left, but they cleared out as soon as the last of the food did. Wild walked over to the heroes' table and noted that Wind, Sky, and Four had fallen asleep. This discovery did not go undiscussed between the Links who were still awake, who quickly decided that it would be best to carry their sleeping companions to bed. Time took Sky, Wild took Four, and Warriors took Wind. The princess gave them all shy goodbye hugs and hurried over to Warriors, whispering something in his ear. He nodded and lowered Wind to the princess' eye level. She exhaled quietly at the peaceful look on the sailor’s face, brushed aside his bangs, and placed a small kiss to the boy's forehead. Wild's eyes watered and he looked away before Warriors could tease him. 

"Alright, guys, let's head to bed." 

A rumble of tired cheers followed Hyrule's suggestion as the group made their way out of the ballroom. Wild cast a glance behind him, his focus landing on the queen. He nodded to her, and she nodded to him. 

They all walked upstairs on full stomachs. Wild winced as his muscles ached and pulled with each movement; even hauling the tiny smithy up the stairs proved to be an ordeal when he felt this bloated. The now-familiar bedroom corridor came into sight, and Wild sighed with relief when he was informed that Four's room was the closest on the right. The champion wriggled the door open and eased Four onto the bed, remembering at the last moment that it probably wasn't a good idea to let the smithy fall asleep in a suit. He gently shook the young man awake and urged him to change. Four gave him one look before turning around and immediately falling asleep. Wild shrugged to himself. Oh well; it wasn't really much of a problem. The bed was probably soft enough to compensate for the discomfort that came with falling asleep in tight formal wear. Wild closed the door behind him and retired to his own room. He brushed his teeth and hair, changed into the silk pajamas a servant had placed on the counter, and slipped under the bed. 

He watched through the skylight as the moon slid across the sky. He fell asleep with moonlight on his face and marble in his chest. 

If Wild had been more aware, he might have remembered to lock his door. He might have heard the creak of floorboards outside his room, or the stifled breathing of a tortured man who had overheard his conversation. Perhaps he might have caught a glint of gold in the black between the door and the doorframe, or heard the teardrops falling on the floor. 

Perhaps, if he hadn't fallen so deeply in love with his present, he might have remembered to keep his demons to himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I hope you guys enjoyed. As always, please don't be afraid to leave a comment if you have something you want to say! I'll try to respond to all comments in a more punctual manner than I have in the past, haha! 
> 
> Thank you once again for reading "The Most Sincere Kind of Lie!!" I'm truly honored that you see this story as something worth your time and emotional investment, and I hope and pray that this story will continue to entertain until the last chapter of the story!!


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